Durin's Day, 3022
by summerald
Summary: Post-LOTR AU! King Fili presides over a feisty dwarf court trying to finalize a mutual defense treaty for the new King in Gondor...but one faction tries to make Kili the bargaining chip in bringing the seven kingdoms together. And as much as he tries to hide it from his brother, Durin's Day brings with it the shadow of pain and suffering for Kili.
1. Chapter 1

One

At the mid-morning break, Fili cornered his brother near the King's study while the councilors mingled in the hall beyond.

"I'm only asking because I'm trying to help you."

"I don't need it," Kili looked at his brother with a level stare. "Thank you."

"What—you'd rather let the council decide this for you?" Fili said. "I'm sorry, but you're my brother. Anyone with a marriageable daughter is after a political match and the pressure is getting hot. They've delayed voting on King Elessar's mutual defense treaty and we're overdue with sending an envoy with an answer. You've become the bargaining chip whether you like it or not."

Kili's face went red. "How's that got anything to do with…?"

"It doesn't. They're just being difficult. But this would all be easier if you were off the table, so to speak, and it's Yngvi whose got their attention, brother. The only choice you'll have with him is which of his high-flying daughters is the lesser evil."

Kili raised his eyebrows.

"I never said that." Fili looked over his shoulder as if making sure no one else had heard the unflattering remark.

"Yngvli? The merchant?"

"The rich merchant."

Kili shrugged. "We're rich."

"Yes. And it's attracting both him and his insufferable daughters. Not even An can stand them, and we all know she has the patience of a saint."

Kili grinned. His nephews Fjalar, Gunnar, and Hannar were living up to the legend of their father and uncle, only instead of the troublesome two, they were well known as the triple threat. Only the charming youngest Iri took after her more practical mother. The three boys were pure Durin terrors.

"Well, thank Mahal for that." Kili had come to love his sister-by-marriage for her deft ability to partner his brother and manage both the court social matters and four active young dwarrows while never losing her cool. During the war, she had managed the city under siege like a seasoned warrior. And even more, Lady An accepted that Kili and his brother remained close. Adding a new personality to their now comfortable lives worried him.

Kili also knew his brother and wife genuinely loved each other. If four bairns wasn't proof enough (twice the usual number), it was apparent any time Fili looked at An…and she loved him in return with a fierce pride that Kili respected—once he had gotten over being jealous of it.

"You are very lucky to have her," he murmured.

"Yes," Fili's voice was firm. "And I'd much rather see you be lucky too, rather than unlucky. Just…help me out here. I can't steer the council away from Yngvi's petition without some alternative in place."

"But it's not even necessary. You've got three boys and an amazing little daughter…"

Fili looked away. "You and I both know that's no guarantee."

Kili regretted the reminder that protecting Fili's heirs while they grew was a constant worry. There were still remnants of forces in this world, even with the dark lord gone, who would rather see any child of Durin's line dead and gone.

"Look, it's soon to be Durin's Day," Fili said, hand on his brother's shoulder. "Tonight the halls will be full of people—ours and all the visitors from the other Kingdoms. Do me a favor and dance. At least mingle with the maidens and…who knows. Maybe one of them will finally catch your eye."

Kili said nothing. When he looked up, he saw his brother's eyes, full of concern.

"How's your knee?" Fili asked.

"It's fine," Kili waved a hand. "Hasn't bothered me at all so far."

Fili's face was still. "I know you still grieve, Kili, but the elf lady is many years gone. Don't you think she would tell you to get on with your life?"

Fili pulled his brother into a quick embrace, held him briefly in a tight hug, then stepped back. "Tell me you will try."

He said it as a direct order from the King, not just a request from a brother.

"All right. Yes. I will try."

"Thank you." And then he was walking back to the open Hall, intercepted by two pages and the assistant clerk who seemed to follow him everywhere these days.

Kili sighed. Count on a brother to know exactly how to punch a guy in the gut. Fact was, he could admit to himself that he was lonely. Fili was more and more tied to the schedule of the Court, and Mahal knew that the security of Erebor took his own time and attention to its fullest.

It was true that things were quieter now with a King again in Gondor.

And because of it, Kili could feel his loneliness. It was like an aching war wound in the early morning hours when he woke in the dark. It was hollow regret late at night when he returned from long patrols to his empty chamber alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Two

Even after promising his King, Kili managed to avoid the evening's celebration by immersing himself in the work of guarding Erebor. He walked the perimeters one more time on the pretense that the guards deserved personal holiday thank-yous. When he found a rockfall on the western terrace, he personally oversaw the work to shore up the retaining walls. After that, he visited the soldier's mess to raise his glass with them, toasting their diligence and sharing jests.

Fili's pages found him there, with a demand from the King for his presence in the Royal Hall.

"Tell him I was working on a rock fall and I'll be there as soon as I clean up." One of the pages trotted off. The other stayed.

Kili gave the lad his best glower, but the page stood still. "My orders, Lord. To stay with you until you arrive in the Hall."

"Son of a snarky old bitty, my brother is." But Kili capitulated and allowed the youngster to trail him to his private rooms. There he found his brother's junior chamberlains impatient to see him properly dressed.

"The Lady An tells us she cannot convince her sons to courtly manners if their uncle ignores his appearances," the senior chamberlain stated.

Kili took the hint, bathed quickly, and presented himself to the chamberlains for dressing.

They were adjusting the fall of his cloak and the angle of his dress buckles when shouts erupted in the outer halls, shouts which included young angry voices.

Kili looked at the page in attendance and the lad vanished, reporting back a moment later.

"The Royal Princes, sir. Some sort of scrape with lads belonging to one of the visitors."

Kili considered whether to get involved, then heard the heart-rending frightened scream of a wee lassie—unmistakenly his little niece, Iri.

He broke upon a melee in the hall with a calculated roar. Young Gunnar stood protectively over his wailing little sister, while Fjalar and Hannar double-teamed a pair of chubby older lads wearing Iron Hills colors, who were in turn backed by a pair of uncertain pages who clearly recognized Erebor's princes. Kili quickly sized up that Fjalar was getting the upper hand, but Kili knew he couldn't let the lad continue. He waded in and extracted Fjalar and Hannar each by the scruff of the neck, raising a cold eyebrow when Fjalar turned in a fit a temper and raised his fist before recognizing his father's brother.

And then the lad's face paled and he deflated so quickly that Kili nearly laughed. He knew the young prince would stand up to chamberlains and pages but did not dare cross his Uncle.

Kili put the boys on their feet, demanded apologies from all around, and threatened not only 500 lines from the schoolmaster but 500 push ups from the armsmaster as well.

"But Uncle. They _hurt_ her. She's _bleeding_." Fjalar protested in a growl, looking up at him with a glower that reminded Kili not so much of his brother as of their uncle Thorin.

Kili knelt and picked up the crying lass, her arms clinging tight around his neck. He stood and asked for the details. The Iron Hills lads had been secreted into the Princes' playroom for fighting games, but when the excitement attracted the little princess, she had become a hostage. The Iron Hills lads had escaped into the halls with her and that had prompted all-out battle. A scrape on Iri's forehead attested to the roughness of the ensuing ambush and the accidental swipe to her head.

"I'll fetch a medic, My Lord," one the nervous pages offered, scampering off.

Kili had a clean handkerchief in his pocket and used it to dab her war wound.

"Head wounds always bleed the worst, sweetheart," he crooned. "I should know. I've had plenty."

Her crying changed from frightened child to the sort designed to wring more sympathy from her uncle. Still, it wrenched his heart and he tried to soothe her, aware of his nephews still glaring at the contrite Iron Hills lads, despite the round of enforced apologies. Hostilities, he realized, could break out again at any moment.

He didn't see that the medic had arrived until he felt a gentle touch on his arm. He turned, expecting to see one of the studious young lads…only to discover a tall, serious maiden in the colors of Ered Luin concentrating on his niece's scrape.

"Oh, sweetheart," the young maid breathed. "You've got a bump," she murmured, deftly gathering the young lass into her arms and nodding for the pages to lead them into the royal children's quarters.

"I ducked, but I wasn't quick enough," he heard his niece begin to chatter, but his eyes were on the young medic as she walked away. Less buxom than most, with straight dark hair pulled back in a simple braid, and she wore blue. Healer's apprentice.

"My lord?" He turned to see one of the pages motioning him back to the chamberlains.

"Yes, of course," he said, aware of his duty.

And with the boys sent to their rooms and the chamber guards reinforced against further childish shenanigans, Kili returned to Lady An's chamberlains for one last check of his attire, and then excused himself with Fili's young page in tow. He tried to focus on presenting his most amenable face to the revelries in the hall, but for some reason, his brain could only think about a young medic from Ered Luin, of all places. Was she new to Erebor? Did he know her? He couldn't recall an introduction, but it was true that he didn't know everyone in Erebor any more. The population had swelled since the fall of the dark lord and was growing bigger every day.


	3. Chapter 3

Three

The Royal Hall roared with laughter and excited chatter, the revelry well underway.

Kili found it easy to slide into the crowd, and if he hoped that the page tailing him would finally leave off, he was disappointed. The lad simply changed places with one of the others and trotted off to report, leaving Kili with a new minder. The lad looked at him levelly.

He thought briefly of ditching the boy…it wasn't as if he didn't know a hundred ways to shake an unwanted tail…but as he glanced around the crowded room he noticed who else was watching. Dwalin, from an honored place near the King's chair. Gloin, from within a circle of scholarly admirers near the roaring fireplace, and even old Dori, pretending to tempt a bevy of over-dressed ladies with a tray of delicacies from the table.

And then several off-duty Captains of the Watch were before him, offering Durin's Day greetings and bowing in respect, and Kili honored them with return bows, his courtly manners compelling him to ask about their families and compliment them before their peers. They beamed at him, and before long he was easily caught up in the chatter and jokes, allowing himself to be led further into the crowd for yet more introductions and greetings.

But the young healer maiden stayed in his mind until he found himself scanning the crowd for her. And that's when he saw her again, bending to speak quietly to one of An's ladies in waiting. A lady heavy with child, Kili noted. Not a simpering wallflower like the highborn girls. A girl with purpose. A girl with her own craft and skills.

So intent were his thoughts that he never realized how long his gaze stayed on her or that he smiled as he watched—she was there, adjusting the shawl of an old timer. Then across the way, making a polite bow to an older matron.

Then a plump silversmith stepped into his line of sight, bowing and introducing Kili to a lady covered in so much silk that he couldn't tell her arms from her ruffles.

Much later, when it was time for the toasting, he found himself at his brother's side, dutifully raising his flagon and applauding Fili's words. He smiled, he laughed, and he knew how important it was for the visitors and people of Erebor to see the King and his brother together.

Quite some time later he turned from a formal toast with ambassadors from the stonesmith's guild to find himself face to face with the healer trainee, very nearly knocking her over. It stopped him in his tracks.

She bowed her head. "My lord, I apologize." Her cheeks flushed.

"For what?" He'd had enough ale by now to feel blissfully chatty with anyone. For some unexplained reason, he had the sudden urge to pull her close and kiss her ear. Just there. After all, it was so pretty without the over-done decorations of the older ladies. Just a little dash of star-white gems.

But it was someone else's feminine arm that came around his waist and squeezed. "Well, little brother, I hear you brokered a successful peace accord in the nursery."

The poor healer trainee sunk to a full court curtsey before Lady An.

"Ah, My Lady, now look what you've done." Kili smiled at his brother's wife.

An handed the poor girl up.

"The nursery was indeed a challenge," Kili said. "But this young lass provided aid to the wounded after the cease fire." He inclined her head at the girl, hand over his heart. "My apologies for missing your name."

An raised her eyebrows. "Then allow me to introduce you." She held up the shocked girl's hand as if she were kin.

"Nÿr, Kili. Kili, Nÿr."

"You know her?" he gaped at his sister-by-marriage.

"That I do," she smiled at the young healer. "She helped deliver our sweet Iri into the world eight years ago. Now there's a day I won't forget. Nÿr's been on exchange with the healers in Erud Luin. I'm happy to say she's returned to us this past week."

Lady An looked at her husband's brother with expectation in her eyes.

Kili recalled his manners and took the maiden's hand and bowed, letting his lips barely touch the back of her hand. "Kili," he said. "At your service."

She had long fingers for a dwarf. It made him smile.

"Nÿr, my Lord, at yours and your family's." She said it formally, but he liked her voice. Warm and soft.

"Kili," Lady An said to the young healer, laughing. "His name is Kili." With a certain nod and a wink, she patted her husband's brother on the arm before she let someone pull her away.

Kili gave Lady An a nod of respect, and when he turned back, the healer apprentice had gone—now ten feet away on the arm of a grandmotherly lady who fanned florid cheeks.

He turned to find old Dwalin watching him and covered his unsettled feeling by raising his flagon and joining the senior dwarf, electing to distract the wiley oldtimer by soliciting advice about the increasing rockfalls on the western terrace.


	4. Chapter 4

Four

At noon the next day Kili stood in the cold wind on the western terrace with the Stonesmiths, listening to their theories and arguments regarding the instability of the slope around the rockfall. To his dismay, several merchants and other visitors had arrived to look at the damage and add their worry.

Even old Dwalin had hobbled his way to the perimeter, leaning heavily on his staff.

"It would be better if we could get up there and really poke around," said the chief Stonesmith. "But it's too unstable. From here, I'd say the problem is contraction of the stone in the cold weather."

"Looks more to me like a weak rock face, loosened by the munitions used in the last battle," said one of the construction experts.

"As a general matter of concern," one of the richly dressed merchants complained. "Does anyone know just how much of the mountain is equally unstable?" He looked around importantly as if to imply that Erebor was a sham kingdom.

Kili bit back an angry comment, recognizing the insult as politically motivated. His sympathy swelled for his brother Fili, cooped up in negotiations with these fools…

"To hell with that damn bloody idiot," Old Dwalin muttered low enough that only Kili could hear. "He can _caragu sigim rukhas..._" He narrowed his eyes.

"Dwalin, stop it," Kili said quietly, suppressing a laugh. "You're channeling Uncle Thorin again. They'll hear you." Kili fought to keep from smiling.

The grumpy old dwarf just growled.

"I'll send out extra patrols," Kili soothed. "Just don't…"

"Lord Kili!" Someone called in a high-pitched, panicked voice.

Kili was instantly on alert.

"Ambush. Orcs outside Dale." It was one of the young lieutenants, out of breath.

The merchants predictably erupted in alarm. Kili broke into a run, heading for the armory at the Main Gate. He met Fili, already there, helping to pass out weapons. The King thrust a bow into Kili's hand and glared. Not only at the mention of orcs, Kili knew, but at the timing. It was not what they wanted while hosting such a crowd of visiting dignitaries.

And then someone among the troops beyond caught his eye. The short form of a young dwarf prince disguised beneath an oversized helm. Kili shouted for a halt, stopping the line of soldiers streaming out in defense. He pulled young Fjalar out of the ranks, thrusting him toward his father before signaling that the troops should continue.

"By Mahal," Fili swore at his under-aged son, gripping the lad's arm.

"Both of you," Kili glared. "Up to the guard tower. I need someone there who can speak with ravens." He jerked his head toward Ravenhill.

Trusting that his brother would behave as long as he had his young son to protect, Kili grabbed an extra quiver of arrows, and sped to the gates. Within minutes he was mounted on one of the light armored short horses, a speedy Rohan fighting breed recently sent as gifts from Edoras.

He led a group of twenty mounted dwarves and came upon the ambush quickly, finding an overturned carriage beside a group of panicked ladies. He directed five of his soldiers to see to the wounded, and with the rest, fanned out around the wreckage, ready for a fight but not finding one.

After three circuits of the immediate area, Kili slowed the short horse and dismounted, sword drawn and eyes scanning the ground for signs of the fight. "What did they take?" He shouted. "What was their purpose?"

But he did not find what he expected—no spent arrows, no thrown knives…no dead or wounded orcs.

He looked back at the frightened ladies huddled outside the overturned carriage, one was hyperventilating, three were in tears. Their hair might have been a bit mussed, but there were no torn dresses, no defensive wounds. Nothing that supported the idea that they had been thrown from a racing carriage.

Then he looked at their horses. Unhitched, not lathered, with no sign of broken tackle. They stood calmly with two very young grooms who were pointedly avoiding everyone's eyes.

One of the younger warriors, an archer he had trained himself, caught Kili's eye. The lad clearly had a hundred questions in his mind.

"Speak," Kili commanded.

"My lord, there's nothing. The carriage is overturned, but no sign of orcs." The youngster looked confused, eyes wide.

"Very good, Skirfir. We're meant to think there was an attack, but you're correct. There's no evidence of any kind of fight at all."Kili raised a hand and looked at the sky. A moment later a glossy Raven landed on his fist and bobbed, voicing a drawn-out, deep quork.

"What do the ravens say, my friend?" He asked it. "Are there orcs about?"

The raven cocked its head and pinned Kili with one shiny black eye. "Not a one, O Raven Prince. Only treachery…treachery by your own kind." The raven flapped his wings in anger.

"All right, Yes," Kili said, trying to calm it a moment. "My thanks. I am ever at your service." The raven settled but still fluffed in anger at such a development. "One more thing, my good friend," Kili said. "A message to the tower, if you would. Report to the King. Overturn accident. No sign of ambush and give the all clear."

The raven simply launched itself into the sky and made straight for the watch tower.

"I don't understand," young Skirfir said, not being able to hear Ravenspeak.

Kili clenched his jaw. "The raven names this treachery." He glared at the ladies, still fussing at the soldiers who were trying to offer assistance. "My brother is hosting negotiations with all Seven Kingdoms in attendance," he said. "It is predictably contentious. My guess is this incident is meant to create fear where there is no reason for it and make for disruptions in the talks."

Skirfir looked shocked.

"Politics," Kili said, sheathing his sword with more force than needed. "Good thing Fili's the diplomat. I would find who's behind this and run them through."

"And I would help you do it," Skirfir said. The lad glowered.

Kili grinned, then became serious again. "The question is, whose idea was this?"

Skirfir inclined his head toward the crying ladies near the overturned carriage. "I say we start with them."

"Good lad," Kili said.

But questioning resulted in little usable information. What they got were tears, claims of injury, and complaints about lax security—which challenged Kili to hold his tongue and keep his temper. They had no idea the extent of Erebor's security and claims that it was lacking turned his heart cold. Dwarves died to protect this mountain. Dwarves he knew.

And then one of them changed her tune. "But you've rescued us, Lord Kili." She clung to his sleeve like a cloying scent. "So gallant. By your honor, I insist that it be you to escort me back. I wouldn't feel safe," she emphasized, "with anyone else." With that, the lady went limp, forcing Kili to catch her.

Skirfir had the good taste to look affronted and Kili clearly felt that had their positions been reversed, young Skirfir would have let the lady fall flat in the dirt.

"Report," he said, prompting the lad to speak his mind.

"The grooms say these are ladies in waiting with the delegation from the Grey Mountains," he reported as a dozen armed soldiers on short horses rode up with a team of medics riding pillion. "The two over there," he gestured to a pair of weeping lasses, "Confirm it. This one," he indicated the fainted lady in Kili's arms, "Is someone's daughter, someone officially observing. A Master Yngvli."

Kili raised his eyebrows.

The medics dismounted and went to work. Kili gladly handed his fainting lady over to three medics who instantly went into action.

In the meantime, one of the lieutenants had organized the work of righting the overturned carriage and called out the command to hoist.

And then three things happened at once. The carriage was righted, resulting in one soldier receiving a nasty cut on the hand that resulted in an impressive spray of blood before the injury was staunched. Three of the ladies set to screeching in indignation at one of the healers, the loudest being Kili's fainting friend, apparently not as unconscious as thought.

And a contingent from Dale appeared on the road ahead, riding well armed and fast-and directly for them.


	5. Chapter 5

Five

Kili gave the command to ride forward, motioning for Skirfir to remain on guard with the medics and ladies while he mounted his Rohirrim short horse and rode ahead. The highborn daughter of Yngvli seemed unaware of the possible danger, loudly insisting that the young archer be banned from her presence. Her father might be a merchant, she shouted, but her mother was Grey Hills royalty.

"Royalty, I tell you!" Her screech nearly echoed around them.

He felt a moment of sympathy for Skirfir, but only a moment. Bigger concerns were upon them.

"Arms at rest," he shouted to the dwarven soldiers who were with him, leading them ahead. "Unless you see an orc!"

They stopped in two columns at the top of a rise, waiting for the Dale men to approach.

To his relief, the oncoming men were slowing their horses to a walk and their weapons remained pointed at the sky. They halted several lengths away.

Kili unbuckled the flap on his fighting jacket, revealing his royal sigil in a show of faith with their ally.

A lone man dressed in leathers rode forward, his bow on his back.

"Well met, Lord Kili, Prince of Erebor." The man held up one hand in a gesture of neutrality.

"Well met, Young Bard, King of Dale." Kili returned the gesture. He couldn't quite get used to the lad, recently come to the throne when his father Brand perished in the Last Battle, but he liked the man. Not the same Bard as old Bard the Bowman, to whom they had come to love all those years ago, but his namesake. Bain's grandson. As tall as his great-grandfather and perhaps someday, more wise.

"We heard rumors on the wind," Young Bard stated. "Of orcs and ambush."

"As did we. Yet I arrive to find not but a single carriage, overturned." Kili rode forward until their horses stood nose-to-tail so they could talk in private. "And a raven tells me there are no orcs for miles, dead or alive," he said. "Which could not be true if there had been an actual ambush. Yet someone would have us believe this staged accident is the result of orcs attacking innocent highborn ladies."

Young Bard kept his expression blank.

"Your opponent is an amateur," he said. "Anyone who ever fought beside you on the field of war would never underestimate your battle sense."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence."

Young Bard's posture relaxed. "Would this have anything to do with the ongoing negotiations your people are hosting?"

Kili suppressed a wry smile. "We are meant to miss that point, I believe. Are the visitors causing problems in Dale? Some of our merchants and minor nobility have little experience outside Dwarven culture. I apologize if they overstep…"

Young King Bard held up a hand, smiling kindly. "You are a rare Dwarf, Lord Kili, to worry about relations with men. But no need to apologize. We are making out like bandits, as my grandfather would have said. If we have to cat-foot around a few fusspots…" He shrugged. "No real harm comes of it."

Kili nodded. Though he could imagine…dwarven visitors with gold burning holes in their pockets, all too eager to seek bargains in the legendary marketplaces of Dale, and all too prone to imagined insults and cheats.

"What's the sticking point," Young Bard asked, getting to the point as sharply as any man. "In the negotiations?"

"Me, apparently." Kili looked over his shoulder at the still-traumatized daughter of Master Yngvli. This ruse to gain his attention was not only blatant, it was insulting. "I'm starting to worry about a claim against family honor, in fact." He tried to make a joke of it, but the thoughtful expression on his friend's face told him he wasn't successful.

"Be wary," Young Bard said in all seriousness. "In Dale, we have an old saying: _Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned_." He looked pointedly at the fussing dwarf maid.

Kili nodded sagely. "Wise words, wise words."

"What are you going to do?"

Kili kept his expression very still. "Tread carefully."

The man snorted, then sat up when someone else caught his eye. "Is that Nÿr?"

"Is that…?" Kili followed the man's gaze to the group of healers tending to the dwarf soldier lad with the cut hand. He recognized her then, the healer trainee in blue.

"She worked with the healers in Dale at one time. Before the war."

"Ex…excuse me?" Kili asked, turning back to his friend, eyes wide.

"Someone's Foster-daughter. Everyone's sweetheart when she was a child. There's a rumor, you know, that she and one of the royal falconers were…"

Kili stared at his friend.

Young Bard didn't seem to notice. "I was just a child," he shrugged. "I'm sure I never heard the whole story. In any case, it didn't last. It was the first time I realized that you just can't apply human morals to Durin's folk."

Kili blinked. "I should hope not." Humans were well known for their extreme narrow-mindedness when it came to relations. Dwarves, who apparently looked completely male and non-sexual to most outsiders, were actually fiercely protective of love and accepted it in many forms...wherever they found it. Between each other, anyway. But a dwarf maiden and a _man_?

Young Bard kept chattering. "In any case, glad to see she's getting on so well."

Kili raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Lady An says she's just back from healer training in Ered Luin."

Young King Bard raised a hand to his troops and winked at Kili. "Do me a favor? Give her my best," he said. Placing his hand over his heart, he inclined his head. "At your service, my friend." He smiled.

Kili returned the gesture, "At yours and your family's," he replied, hoping he successfully hid the unaccountable shock he was feeling.

As the contingent from Dale turned and cantered back toward home, Kili motioned for the dwarf soldiers with him to return to the accident. He put the senior Captain in charge of mopping up and rode a little apart from the action, hoping he appeared watchful rather than unsettled. He slipped his right foot from the stirrup as he sat, absently stretching the muscles and rubbing the scar of an old injury. He tried to ignore the discomfort, but the excitement had aggravated it.

He watched as the carriage was deemed sound enough for use, having, as Kili suspected, sustained little damage in the staged rollover.

He heard Yngvli's daughter complaining long and loud once again, but he stayed well away, trusting the Captain and Skirfir to handle her. In truth, she was getting his escort, some forty-odd dwarves worth of it, in fact, and he felt little reason to encourage her with personal attention.

But on the ride back his thoughts were despairing. The healer maiden…and rumored involvement with a Dale man. And then this worthless highborn lady…was she the one named in the petition to his brother? Part of him howled in denial. But another part of him just felt deflated. What did it matter who Chose him in marriage? He'd always known this day would come…that he would be expected to make a political partnership. Why resist it now?

He was not surprised, then, when her father met the incoming carriage in a fit of rage, demanding Lord Kili's accountability. Sighing, he dismounted and handed his horse's reins to a waiting groom. He walked slowly toward Yngvli, knowing full well how the next hour of his time would play out.

If only he could be his Uncle, or even a younger version of old Dwalin. The urge to bluster back at the pompous windbag and pummel him with a sword or axe was strong inside him…but it was the craftier teachings of old Balin that surfaced in his mind. _Instead of locking horns with a bully when he attacks, step back and let him fall on his face. _He could even see old Balin wink and nod at him.

He knew how to execute that concept in a sword fight. But he'd never done it diplomatically, so to speak. Was this the right course of action here?

_And if so, dear old Balin, how exactly do I do it_? Kili wondered. And when exactly would be the right time?


	6. Chapter 6

Six

Kili finally returned to his own quarters well into the evening. He didn't notice that he was limping, but he did feel the sharp pain in his right thigh, just above the knee. In fact, he wasn't feeling well at all.

He poured a glass of plain water from the bedside table, drinking it dry. By Mahal, what did he expect? No one would feel well after even ten minutes with that ass Yngvli. But for the sake of his brother's negotiations, he was expected to bear up, and he would.

A quick summary of the day's Court events had told him that despite the day's disruption, the negotiations were nearly complete, though the Grey Mountains contingent was refusing to vote. Without all kingdoms ready to do so, King Elessar's treaty would remain unratified. And it was clear that the Grey Mountains dwarves were holding out for approval of Yngvli's petition. Fili's frustration was palpable, and even Lady An's nerves were on edge.

It made his head ache.

Then again, maybe it was just the weather, he told himself. A storm was brewing outside the mountain this evening. Ice storm, most likely.

And yet he was expected again at the revelries in the King's Hall tonight. He knew it. Tonight was Durin's Day Eve, after all. There would be songs, and there would be stories. Old Dwalin, Gloin, and Dori would be guests of honor, regaling all with re-tellings of that evening 80-odd years ago when a Hobbit helped his Uncle unlock the hidden door.

He and Fili, of course, hadn't been there. Hell, he didn't even clearly recall the day.

Except the Dragon. He remembered that, by Mahal.

And the aftermath. He stared at his little fire, so benign…

Yes, he would join the party, raise his glass, and with his friends, mourn their uncle and…his friend the Elf Maiden.

But maybe after a rest. His limbs felt like lead and the bed was inviting. Layers of soft blankets. Pillows stuffed with fine goose down. And there was his fire, burning gently.

Then a soft noise near the passage to the family quarters caught his ear. A very small face peered around the door, eyes wide.

"My Kee?"

He smiled at his niece's version of "Uncle Kili" as she tiptoed into the room, trailing the ties on her dressing gown.

"Hey, sweetheart," he murmured. "Mommy and Daddy off to the party?"

She nodded.

He limped to his fireplace and eased himself into his favorite chair, opening a hand to her in invitation to climb into his lap. It was a familiar uncle-niece tradition.

But Iri stood still as she considered the way he favored his right leg. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

"Nah," he said, shrugging off his discomfort. "Just an old injury. Acts up every now and then."

Iri frowned at him, then turned and ran back to her family's rooms. Kili watched her go, smiling in puzzlement, absently rubbing his leg and hoping the warmth of the small fire would ease the muscles.

She was back moments later, something small carried carefully in one hand. This time she did scramble into her uncle's lap and he caught her up, pulling her past the aching leg and settling her on the cushioned arm of the chair.

In her hand lay a folded, damp cloth, and suppressing a smile, he watched her very seriously pat it several times before reaching up to press it against his forehead.

"Do you think I hit my head?" he asked, amused by her focus on the task.

She nodded. "And you have a fever."

"Do I?"

She nodded again, switching hands. "You have shiny eyes. Mama says that's a gibba-way."

"A giveaway?"

"I will call my nurse. She will make it better." Iri started to slide off of the chair, but Kili grabbed her hand, holding her in place.

"No," he said, too quickly. Iri's eyes went wide. "No, sweetheart," he softened his voice. "I thought you were the nurse. I don't really need another one." He smiled as if this were nothing more than one of their pretending games, like having tea.

"Can you teach me more arrows tomorrow?" she asked.

Kili smiled. She was fascinated with archery and quite good at it for a child. Better than her brothers, actually.

"I would love to," he said. "But it's a holiday. You and I will both have other things we have to do."

She removed the damp cloth from his forehead, looking at him as if she expected him to be completely cured.

"Thank you," he said. "I feel better."

From deep within the family chambers Kili could hear the Nannies calling for their young charge.

He made a face as if he were scared of the nannies. "You better go," he whispered. "Before we're both in trouble."

She giggled, then scrambled from the chair and dashed back to the nursery, shouting "Here I am!" to announce her presence.

Kili laughed to himself and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He loved the little rascal and wondered what it would be like, years and years from now, when he supported his brother in a petition for her hand. Forget that, he dashed the thought. There's not a dwarf out there who will be good enough.

And then he snorted. As if what the menfolk wanted really meant anything. It was all bluster, really. The actual power in a marriage petition lay with the Lady. Tradition held that no petition would be valid without the Lady's Choice. His job, he knew, would be to support Iri's Choice, when she made it, whether he liked the lad or no.

And that made him open his eyes. That was the key, he realized. The Right to Choose. It belonged with the lady, not the menfolk. Maybe this problem with Yngvli was all misplaced self-importance.

But he didn't have time to think it through—a clamor in the outer hallway told him he was needed. He pushed himself up to find a small squadron of the Guard at his door.

"Rockfall," the Lieutenant said. "Western terrace. Your cadet Skirfir…a few others…injured and cut off from the gate."

Kili swore luridly in Khuzdul, grabbed his snow jacket, and forced his aching leg into action.


	7. Chapter 7

Seven

Kili strode purposefully onto the western terrace, taking the snow cloak and heavy gloves that someone thrust at him. Outside, snow was beginning to fall, but the biggest threat was the ice cold gusting wind.

"Down there," the guard commander shouted, pointing him to the accident site. Kili stepped to the edge and looked while pulling on the extra cloak and gloves. It was now dark, but watch lanterns pointed at a flat area some hundred measures below, and the switchback trail down had been obliterated by a slide full of both slag and boulders. Kili looked uphill at the likely origin of the rockfall. Something wasn't right. That was not the kind of stone or outcropping that should have failed—especially not in that manner.

"Five wounded." The commander gestured toward the small lifting crane that had already pulled up three of the injured. "Head wounds, three are unconscious," he added, then lowered his voice. "One very serious."

Kili looked at the triage area: three injured guards, medics bending over them and readying them for transport down to the infirmary. None of them were Skirfir, though he did recognize their faces. Good warriors, all of them. Veterans. If this was intentional, as he now suspected it was, the act was criminal. If even one of these dwarves died of his wounds, he would have every right to exact justice with his sword.

Kili's brows lowered and his jaw clenched. In fact he would do it this very instant, were the culprits brought forth.

"And the two below?" His voice was tight.

"Broken bones. Not as serious at these. We're bringing them up now."

Kili looked at the crew with the lifting crane. They were nearly ready to send the rescue basket back down.

He raised a hand and walked forward, calling to them. "Give me a ride," he said, reaching for the chain and stepping onto the lifting basket's footholds.

He didn't see the crane workers glance at the guard commander in alarm, nor did he see the commander shrug. Their prince was well known to be a bit reckless, but they all secretly admired it about him.

"Just be careful!" the commander called out, as much to the workers as to his prince. "The wind's gusty and getting worse!"

Kili looked down, spotting one of the rescue crew below at the ready with a guide line to keep the basket steady in the wind, and after a quick warning jerk on the chain, the rig descended rapidly with Kili on board.

Once on the ground, he helped carry the next wounded guard to the basket, an older dwarf with a crushed leg and broken arm. The fellow had already been given a powerful dose of pain killer and looked more like he'd just survived a drunken tavern brawl than an avalanche.

"Be careful laddie," he said to Kili when he recognized his prince. "I don't know what kind of ale they're servin', but it packs a powerful punch."

"Does it now?" Kili smiled at the oldtimer while two medics settled him into the lifting basket. "Let's raise a glass of it then, next time I see you. We'll judge how strong the stuff is together." He met the healer's eye, wondering if the injured guard would be all right, but the fellow's expression looked grave. Kili knew that meant the oldster's odds of losing his leg were fifty-fifty at best.

The medic turned to his partner. "Are you all right if I ride up," he asked.

Kili saw the second medic nod in agreement. "Go," she said. "I'll finish and pack." It was a lassie's voice. Kili looked up to discover Nÿr, her braid covered by a blue hood.

"You're certainly everywhere today," he said to her in a level voice. Just this morning he would have been delighted to be crossing paths with her again. Now he didn't know what to think. He shoved his mixed feelings aside, focusing on the more urgent matter at hand.

"It's just my duty schedule," she answered, testing the buckles on the safety straps. "Luck of the draw for the holiday shift." She tugged on one last strap and stood back.

The senior healer stepped into the footholds and signaled readiness. Kili took the safety line and let it play out as the basket whisked upwards. He felt it bump to halt at the top, barely able to see the crane swinging the basket to safety. The snow was really coming down now, he realized.

Knowing that time was of the essence, he turned to the last wounded dwarf, Skirfir. The young archer was the least hurt but looked the most worried.

"Tell me what happened, lad," Kili said as he bent to lend a shoulder to the younger dwarf and help him up while Nÿr guided the empty carrier back to the ground.

"My Lord, these rockfalls are not happenstance," Skirfir looked at his prince with anger in his eyes as Kili got him to the basket. "Someone is setting them with blast powder. I saw them, just before the slide. Three of them, dwarves none of us recognized, dressed in grey and black. Up there," he jerked his head toward the area Kili had been looking at earlier.

Kili's eyes narrowed. "Three dwarves? No more?"

"Ask the Ravens. There was a small flock here raising a ruckus like no one's business. One tried to talk to me." Skirfir's head fell back, his frustration clear. "But I just can't understand them. I'm sorry…"

Kili scanned the slope above them, but by now, any self-respecting bird would be hunkered down to ride out the storm. He put a hand on the injured lad's shoulder. "It's all right, Skirfir," he said, and then bent close to speak quietly. "Who else have you told about this?"

"No one, my lord."

Kili squeezed the lad's arm. "Good lad. You've done well. But this is for King's ears only, do you understand me?"

Skirfir stared a moment, then nodded.

"We'll tell him together once you get patched up."

Skirfir nodded again as Nÿr stepped around the basket.

"Cross your arms like this and grip the straps," She said to the lad, demonstrating on herself, hands on opposite shoulders. "And hold tight."

Skirfir obeyed, blinking snow out of his eyes. He looked uncertain, but his expression was bravely stoic.

"Did I just hear a young lady asking you to hold tight?" Kili winked at the younger dwarf, trying to lessen the lad's worry with a bit of humor. It worked. He noticed the corner of Skirfir's mouth twitch up and the young archer looked appropriately scandalized. Kili suppressed a grin.

And then the strongest gust yet buffeted them with an icy blast and Kili leaned over the lad to protect him. Beside him, Nÿr met his gaze when the gust subsided. The snow was coming down faster and heavier.

"You go up," he said, indicating that she should ride the basket up with Skirfir.

"Too gusty," Nÿr shook her head. "Send him up alone—it will be safer for him. We can ride locked-arm afterward."

Kili nodded. She knew her stuff, the girl did. That was indeed the safest way in gusty conditions. He nodded and patted Skirfir one last time on the shoulder for reassurance.

He double checked the chain and snap-hook, and then the safety line. The wind gusted wickedly again and he rocked back, ignoring the sharpening pain in his right leg but shifting his weight off it just the same.

"Your ride might be bumpy," he shouted to Skirfir over the storm. He eyed the ropes, unable to see the cliff or the lights above now. "Let's hope the lads up there pull hard and fast. The sooner you're up, the easier it will be."

Kili nodded to Nÿr to stand away and he grabbed the chain, yanked twice, and quickly stepped back, his gloved hands on the safety line. The basket jerked and lifted just a little, the warning signal to clear for lift, and then shot upwards, out of sight. Kili let the safety line play out but held it taught, hoping it kept the basket from dashing against the rocks in the wind.

The line was nearly played out when it went weightless. He and Nÿr both stood, looking up into nothing but swirling snow as the line went lax, then came snaking back to the ground with a frayed end.

They looked at each other in shock.

Nÿr bent and lifted the sliced end. "What just happened?" she said.

"I'm not sure," Kili said, looking at the rope in her hand. Holding onto his hood, he peered upward into the storm, hoping he could hear something…shouts or the clank of the lifting crane.

But he heard nothing. Several long moments passed. The wind gusted, quieted, then gusted again with enough force to drive them both two steps to the side.

Then he saw it…a plump, round object falling straight for them. He grabbed Nÿr and pulled her aside just in time for a bundle to hit the snowy ground with a whump.

"What does this mean?" she asked.

"This," Kili said, striding forward to retrieve the emergency pack. "Means they won't be doing any more rescue lifts tonight." He walked toward her, holding out a hand. She looked at it, eyes wide. "Come on," he said. "We need to find shelter."

**break**

**break**

"Say that to me again?" King Fili walked forward, his expression so intense that the guard commander stepped back. It was his unpleasant duty to knock on the door of the King's private chamber bearing unhappy news on tonight, of all nights…Durin's Day Eve.

"The winds are gusting too strongly. They barely got the last lad up."

"And my brother is still out there?"

The commander swallowed. "We sent an emergency pack down. And he's not alone. One of the rescue team is with him as well. Surely they will make a snow cave and wait out the storm."

"Who's with him?"

"One of the healer lassies."

"A lass?" Fili said flatly, keeping his expression still and steely, but one eyebrow twitched.

"Nÿr, sir. One of the best…" The guard stopped, unsure of his King's reaction. The King and his brother were famously close and fiercely protective of each other.

But Fili snorted. "Marooned in a snow cave with a girl," he said with a hint of a smile. "Could be highly dangerous in a number of interesting ways."

But the guard didn't laugh. "One more thing, sir. The last lad that they brought up…"

Fili frowned. "How is he?"

"Badly broken leg. In the infirmary now. Says he has a message for you."

Fili stared.

"For you alone."

"Now that," Fili grabbed his overcoat and slipped it on. "Sounds like something I want to hear," he said, heading for the door and cinching his leather belt tight.


	8. Chapter 8

Eight

Luckily for Kili and Nÿr, they discovered an old guard house carved into the rock only a short way down the trail from the slide. They left a series of stones pointing to their shelter, then ducked inside. The foyer lacked a door, but the tiny, vacant inner room was at least out of the wind. It was even relatively clean and dry but for a little dust and debris.

It would be remarkably cold, however.

They found a metal box of signal torches in the foyer, not too old, and Kili lit one with his flint.

"I wonder if there's a hidden door," Kili said, holding up the torch and reaching out to test the stone walls. "Maybe there's a way in." He wanted to check on Skirfir, then report to his brother and have a chance at the saboteur in their midst before sunrise.

Nÿr pulled off one glove and let her fingertips trail along the stone. "No seams," she said. And neither of them found the kind of decorative ornament that often hid a latch.

"Just plain, solid walls," Kili said. "I guess we're stuck here," his shoulders sagged. Any hope of getting the jump on his quarry now stalled while the storm raged on. "I hope Skirfir made it all right."

Nÿr looked sympathetic. "I'm sure they got him inside to the infirmary. His leg will mend—the break was clean. He's in better shape than the others."

Kili nodded. "Thank you for helping them," he said quietly. She just nodded once in return.

Resigned to sheltering for the night, they unpacked the emergency bundle. Inside they found padded blankets, a small kettle, several small metal cups, a pack of dried fruit and meat, and a sturdy sack full of treated wood, the kind steeped in long-burning oils.

"Are you limping?" Nÿr asked, suddenly very concerned when she saw him favoring his right leg.

"It's nothing." Kili shrugged her off and bent to light the fire. "Old injury. Acts up in the cold sometimes."

She looked skeptical. "I have my aid kit," she said, pointing to the leather satchel she'd brought with her. "Let me know if you need something for it."

"Thanks," Kili said. But he looked away. He was pretty sure that nothing in her kit would help him. Phantom injury is what Old Oin had called it, once it had become clear that the effects of the Morgul poison would revisit him every year. Some years the scars merely ached. Other years it laid him flat with a full relapse of fever and searing pain.

He tried not to think about it. He tried to tell himself that with the dark lord gone from Mordor, the wound had lost its power, that a little soreness would be all he was due.

It's over, he told himself. Over and done.

And he tried not to think about those last few years before the ring was destroyed—that as the dark lord had gained in strength, so had the power of the wound. It had kept him unwell and close to Erebor when other dwarves—dwarves like his cousin Gimli—were free to travel Middle Earth and join the fray.

His thoughts broke when Nÿr took the kettle and went out to fill it with snow. Kili shook off his worry and busied himself with positioning a flat stone in the fire for the kettle sit on.

Then, as dwarves generally did in survival situations, they wrapped the padded blankets around themselves and sat close to use each other's body heat.

They munched on the dried rations and listened to the storm raging outside.

"You realize we'll never hear the end of this," Kili commented, slowly chewing a handful of dried fruit. "Lad and lassie, sheltering overnight in the snow. Funny excuse for missing all the parties inside." He said it to try and lighten their mood.

Nÿr didn't answer or meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't joke. You must have a husband?"

"No. You?"

Kili laughed. "Just my brother."

She smiled. "There are lots of rumors about you two, you know."

Kili grinned. "How do you know they aren't true?" he teased.

She grinned back and pulled her blanket tighter. "Sooooo not my business, my lord."

"Kili," he said. "Since it's just the two of us, I really don't think the title is necessary. It's just for show, you know. People like to use it, so I let them. But really, I'm just a kid from Ered Luin."

"The Blue Mountains," she said. "You know, I just spent five years there. It's a beautiful place."

"I grew up there," Kili said. And while the fire burned brightly, the two of them compared notes about the western settlement, enjoying easy conversation until Nÿr yawned.

"You've had a pretty long day," Kili observed. "We should sleep." He looked out toward the dark foyer where the storm raged on. "I vote we forego setting watches. I've no idea who'd be out in weather like this."

She agreed, and putting their backs to each other for support, they let themselves drift off to sleep, blankets wrapped around each other.

Some time later, Kili woke, aware of a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and a dull, steady ache in his leg. He repositioned it. Next to him, Nÿr shivered.

"Hey," he nudged her. "You're too cold if you're shivering." She rubbed her face as he leaned forward and stirred the little fire. It flared to life, but without more fuel, he knew it would not burn much hotter.

"Come on," he said, opening his arms to her as she shifted position. He wrapped himself around her and tucked her against his chest, sitting with her enveloped in his warmth.

She said nothing, but after a few minutes stopped shivering.

"Better?"

"Thank you," she said in a small voice.

Kili felt almost too hot, now.

"You don't have to do this," she said.

"Keep you warm?"

"You don't understand. I'm not really someone you should be associating with."

"Why not?"

"I've been…inappropriate."

Kili frowned. "So? I try to be inappropriate as much as I can…" He started to laugh then realized she was serious. "I'm sorry," he said, guessing her problem. "Inappropriate how? In love? Tell me."

"I…can't. I'm sorry."

"So am I." He frowned. How was he going to forge a friendship with her if she refused to share? He looked away, then decided to gamble. "How about this. I'll tell you about the most inappropriate love I've had, and then, if you think you can top it, you can tell me yours."

She looked dubious. He charged ahead.

"Once, on the journey here to Erebor—before the Dragon slaying—we were captured by the Mirkwood Elves."

"I've heard the story." She nodded.

"Yeah, well here's the part I'm guessing you haven't heard. I fell ridiculously in love."

"Love?"

"With an Elf."

Her eyebrows shot up. "An elf maid?"

He smiled. "Warrior. Yes. Her name was Tauriel, a sylvan elf. Hair like fire. Saved me from a pack of spiders."

"Did your uncle know?" She barely whispered.

Kili shrugged. "Don't care. My brother knew, though. Tried to knock some sense into me, then just gave up, I think. He came around to tolerating her."

"What happened?"

"Killed by the dragon." He looked at the little fire, recalling the sorrow.

"Admiring an elf is not a crime."

"It…may have gone a little farther than that," he admitted.

She didn't flinch. Didn't look shocked. "You slept with her."

"Yes." He said it honestly, with frankness. "Well, more like she slept with me. I went with it. It just felt right at the time."

She nodded.

He waited to see what she would say, but she stayed silent.

"Your turn." He prompted, hoping she would choose to share.

"A man."

"A…man?" He tried to sound as if he was hearing this for the first time.

"A Dale man. I moved there with my foster mother when they were rebuilding…" She was quiet a moment, then went on. "And I met him. I had thought everything all right at first. But soon after…there were people who weren't very nice. They threatened us—did rude things. Dwarves and men alike."

"No…" Kili moaned in sympathy, his hand touched hers.

"I was young. I thought it was my fault. But…" she looked away. "It was too much. He left."

Kili was silent. In his heart he knew that would have been the way of things for him and Tauriel as well. Neither of their peoples would have approved. Dwarves could come around to accepting such a thing, but men? Never.

"Where is he now?"

"Dead. A skirmish on the eastern border." She bit her lip and looked away.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it, his unsettled feelings about her vanishing. The two of them actually had something very real in common. He brushed a lock of hair from her face and held her a little closer. "Just the other day my brother was reminding me to stop mourning the past and live in the here and now."

"Can you?"

"I promised I'd try." That unexplainable urge to kiss her ear was back.

"Have you forgotten her?"

"No. But I have made my peace with it. You?"

"I'm not even that same person anymore." She shook her head. "But…when ladies try to match me with their sons and cousins, I just want to hide. If they knew, they would surely disapprove."

"But that's good." Kili smiled.

"Good?"

"For me. I don't disapprove. But then, I fell madly in love with an elf. Who am I to judge?"

She was silent.

"Does this bother you?" he asked.

She laughed softly. "No. By Mahal, it doesn't bother me." She squeezed his hand. She meant it.

"Well, that's good to know." He grinned. And then he gambled one more time and captured her mouth in a kiss. Just a simple, soft, gentle kiss…

"Could this not be good?" He asked, pulling her gently beside him and then waiting, hoping she would take the next step.

She said nothing, but her hand came up to cup his jaw and she raised her head to kiss him back.

And they made love, tangled in blankets and trying to stay warm, until they ended up spooning close to the fire and falling asleep in easy accord.

Outside, the storm raged on, and inside Kili, the fever sparked higher, no matter how much he thought he could hold it at bay.

In the cold, very early morning, he lost the battle and woke, crying out in agony, his right leg cramped and burning, his head pounding.

Nÿr was instantly awake, alarmed at his condition and dismayed at all the signs of a high fever.

"Kili," she breathed, trying to calm him. "It is your leg?" She scrambled to strip the blankets away and saw the vivid, angry scars on his leg, just above the knee. Her healer's eye told her this was not a normal wound.

"Kili," she said. "Sweetheart. Tell me what this is!"

But he couldn't say. He couldn't even think through the red haze of pain.


	9. Chapter 9

Nine

Fili was almost out the door when a small voice made him turn.

His youngest, Iri, was out of bed and standing ten feet away, eyes full of unshed tears. "Da!"

"Iri, honey, I have to go. Where's your nanny?"

"No," she said, running toward him. He caught her up. "Da. My Kee is sick. He has a fever. I saw!"

Fili looked into his little daughter's eyes, seeing his own dismay reflected in her worried expression as the silent tears spilled over. An was instantly there, arms out to take her errant child.

Their eyes met over the top of Iri's curls.

"Durin's Day," Fili said, cursing himself for letting court politics and intrigues drive from his mind the one bad thing that generally happened this time of year. "He told me he was fine."

An looked contrite. "You better go," she whispered, eyes wide.

Fili turned and stalked out, angry at himself. "Infirmary," he said to the Commander. The nervous dwarf followed.

"I don't understand," the Commander said, trotting to keep up with his King. "Should we have stopped your brother?"

"No," Fili sliced a hand through the air. "This is not the fault of the Guard. My brother has an old injury that acts up and he is well known for masking the problem." Fili walked on, fuming. "I'm irked at him, not the Guard." He left it at that.

But fact was, he was irked at himself as well. He, of all people, knew just too well what kind of fever his brother was suffering from. A wound from a morgul shaft all those years ago, and it still had the power to lay Kili out flat when the anniversary rolled around. Not every year…but most. And Fili knew that if his brother had a fever, the relapse would be worse than usual.

"Job for you," Fili said to the commander, rattling off a short list of names. "I want them in the King's Chamber in ten minutes."

The commander nodded.

"You'll have to round them up," Fili said.

The commander took off at a run.

Fili kept going and didn't even stop at the infirmary's security door. He burst into the ward without waiting for permission, shocking the on-duty medics, but he didn't apologize. Sometimes a King just needed to bypass all the niceties. Something was up in Erebor and he wasn't about to wait for clerks to consult with supervisors and call for the master physician.

"The last lad they brought in from the rockfall on the western terrace," he demanded.

A pair of startled nurses pointed to an alcove.

The lad saw him approach and his eyes went wide. He made a brave attempt to sit up.

"No, no. Stay put," Fili said. "Can't have you messing up your bandages. I hear you have a message."

The lad nodded.

"Well, find your voice lad, and tell me."

**break**

**break**

Fili slipped out of the infirmary heading for the King's Chamber, a small room by Erebor standards used for his most private meetings. Fact was, he had heard more in the young archer's message than the lad knew-and added to a few other pieces of information he had...

A quick check with the medics confirmed that indeed the most seriously wounded dwarf in the rockfall had not made it.

That meant murder with a side of treachery in the midst of hosting the most critical negotiations in years.

Part of him wanted to turn the mountain upside down in a fit of rage, but the more sensible part of him told him to do it with deadly calm.

And he wanted his brother brought back inside the mountain instead of left suffering out there in the cold with no one to defend him.

He would do it himself, in fact.

But not before he put a few other things in motion.

He burst into the King's Chamber to find five of his most trusted advisors hastily dressed and standing at the ready.

The only one missing was Kili.

"My King." Old Dwalin inclined his head, using Fili's most formal title. The group was silent, at attention, ready.

Fili laid out what he knew.

"Stonefoots," old Gloin muttered. "From the eastern Grey Mountains. There are verified accounts of them dealing too closely with Mordor in the years before the war." He looked around the room. "We all know that the dark lord might be vanquished, but much of his evil remains. It will take years to sweep things clean," he stated.

Fili nodded. That was exactly why signing King Elessar's treaty was so critical.

"Yet they are one of the Seven Families," Fili pointed out. "We can't simply reduce the number to Six just because we want to. The Ironfists and the Blacklocks would revolt, for one thing." He shook his head. "What we need to know is whether the rot is in the entire contingent or in just a few. And then we need to be surgical."

"I don't understand. Do they not have a marriage petition in the Council, seeking an alliance with the House of Durin?" Dwalin asked.

Fili nodded. "I was stalling it best I could. Now I understand their plan."

"Plan?" Gloin growled.

"They want this kingdom. Starts with a marriage that would take my brother out of Erebor, and his life would last as long as it took for him to father a male child—a Stonefoot-born heir from the line of Durin. They would no doubt report him dead in some plausible accident, and then somehow contrive to kill me and my sons," he clenched his jaw. "Leaving them conveniently placed with a handy heir to the throne, thereby gaining possession of Erebor."

Everyone in the room shifted in anger.

"Not if my Gimli claimed it first," Gloin stated. "Regardless whose claim would take precedence, he would fight for this mountain to the end."

Fili looked at his hands. "They would count on that, I think. But do you think they would allow even Gimli to survive?"

The room was silent.

"But they've tipped their hand and their plan, quite frankly, is crap. I want justice," Fili snarled, his expression like stone. "And I will protect my kith and kin with everything I have."

"As will we," Gloin growled.

Fili nodded. "They don't know it yet, but these traitors are at a serious disadvantage."

"How so?" one of the other dwarves said. "We don't even know exactly who we're after."

Fili was silent a moment. "I am a son of Durin," he said, crossing his arms. "Durin's Day is upon us, and I am in Erebor. We have more allies than they can know." Only a few knew what he meant, and at least three of them were standing in this room.

Old Dwalin leaned on his staff like a wizard. "Ah," he said. "I understand you now."

And his old eyes twinkled with a wickedness Fili had not seen for years. The two nodded at each other, and then Fili quickly spelled out his tasks for the others.

"And you?" Dwalin asked his King, as gruff as Thorin ever was.

"I'm heading for the western terrace for two things. My brother," he said. "And a word with the ravens."

"Call Bofur and Bombur up out of the mine," Dwalin advised. "With their best crew. You'll need their skills to manage that rockface in a storm."

And Fili agreed.


	10. Chapter 10

****Author's note: some of the references to Fili, Lady An, their children, and Kili are inspired by all the really outstanding fan art I've seen on artist's blogs. If you want to see some of my inspiration, I've posted a board on Pinterest (with artists cited) in case you'd like to check it out!**

** Apparently Fanfic won't add a URL in a doc, so just google "summer alden pinterest" and you'll find it.  
**

**(And don't worry, Summer Alden is an alias. Not my real name.)**

**Hope you enjoy Chapter Ten...this one hit me in the gut a bit as I wrote it. Hope it's not crap! Thanks for all your support!****

Ten

It took longer to get things rolling on the western terrace than Fili would have liked, but he couldn't fault how hard the mining crew worked at it.

Old Bofur and Bombur had brought their best engineers, who took one look at the snowy slope and started sketching plans for an ore cart on an iron track powered by counter weight inside the mountain. The wind could gust all it wanted and the cart and track would remain steady. They would even assemble the track on runners inside and slide the whole apparatus out, somewhat like launching a raft. Fili approved, and miners swarmed over the construction like busy ants.

Meanwhile, the storm raged on and the darkness of night turned to the dull gray of a stormy morning. Still, the wind would have to quiet before the ravens would be seen again, so Fili remained focused on task one—which was to find his brother.

Two hours later, Fili was all too eager to hop inside the mine cart and ride down the hillside, though he had conceded that two others should go first for safety. He forbade them to look for Kili, however, on the premise that they might disturb tracking signs.

"Might be a bit of a jolt at the bottom," Bofur said, tossing a heavy coil of rope over the lap of his King and friend. "But good luck."

Fili gripped the old miner's hand in thanks, then double checked the contents of the bag strapped to his side. Herbs, a pan, food, and clean cloths. On the other side, a canvas bag with a half dozen sticks of oil-soaked kindling.

He nodded to Bofur that he was ready.

With a clang, the brake released and the cart rolled heavily down the steep track and indeed there was a bit of a jolt at the end, throwing Fili a few inches forward as it jerked to a stop. Two burly dwarves helped him out at the bottom.

"Where to, my Lord?" one of them shouted over the wind. Fili handed them one end of the heavy rope to anchor firmly to the cart and raised a hand to say they should stay put.

Fili was a master at tracking—he'd been doing it all his life to find game, thieves, orcs and, of course, his little brother. It took only minutes for him to make his first circuit of the immediate area and discover the small rock cairn, nearly obliterated with snow.

This was Kili's marker—set in the way he always used. Fili played out his safety rope and moved parallel to the mountainside until he found the second marker about ten steps away.

After that, it didn't take long for the stones to lead him straight to the old guard house.

"Kili!" he shouted, hoping he could be heard over the howling wind. He stomped his way through an open foyer, tying the end of his safety rope to a handrail. He would need that to guide him back to the cart.

Once inside, he could see an inner chamber lit by the dim orange light of embers and he pushed forward, sliding the snow hood off his face.

He did not expect to hear the ring of steel or see the half-undressed dwarf medic pointing his brother's sword at him.

But he admired her instinct.

"Hey," he said, holding up his hands. "I'm just here to help my brother."

The lassie's eyes went wide as she realized she had just drawn steel on her King.

But Fili didn't have time for apologies. There, twisting in the mussed blankets in front of a dying fire lay his very sick brother. One look and he could see Kili was in the throes of the poison, dangerously fevered and shivering in unspeakable pain.

He dropped the load of firewood in front of the girl, who'd dropped the sword and crouched before him, bowed in horror.

"Build up the fire," he ordered. "There's no time for apologies." He stripped off the bag at his side, then threw off his snow jacket and gloves, already caked in ice. "Good," he said, spotting the little kettle. "You've already got hot water."

**break**

**break**

Nÿr's cold hands fumbled with the bundle of kindling, breaking it apart and turning to quickly add two, then three of the treated logs to their guttering fire. It flared quickly, bringing immediate warmth to the little room.

Next to her, her _King_ (she could barely believe it was really him) was bending down to kiss his brother's forehead.

"Kili," she heard him murmur. "Kili? Brother?"

Her friend (lover?) had been unresponsive for the last few hours and said nothing now, either.

But instead of cursing her for her poor care of his brother, her King was quietly rummaging through his bag for a handful of herbs.

"The hot water, please," he said, gesturing for her to hand him the kettle.

Nÿr hastened to help. The King had said _please_.

And what he was doing now was not something she's ever learned from the healers. She watched, fascinated, hardly daring to hope.

The King pulled a small, flat pan from his pack, poured the hot water in, and then lightly crushed the herbs in his bare hands.

As she watched, he closed his eyes and started a low throated chant in Khuzdul, almost like the first part of an ancient song. Then he cast the herbs on the water and waved a hand through the steam, dispersing the scent of something wholly unfamiliar to her—yet surprisingly heady.

It brought to mind clover on the sunny hillsides of Ered Luin and the smell of fresh raw honey.

As if catching the scent, Kili's head turned slightly toward the steam and his shivering slowly stopped, his body relaxing.

"Kili!" her King called to his brother as if issuing a command.

And this time, Kili's eyes slitted open and his brows furrowed in puzzlement as he looked at his brother's face with an expression at once sweet and confused.

"Fee…?" his voice was husky from the fever. A momentary shiver returned, then stopped. He moved a hand, and Fili grabbed it, clutching it as if he could make his brother strong again through sheer force of will.

"I'm here, Kili. I'm taking you home. Just hang on."

Kili's head moved a little in what Nÿr took as a nod. "Fee…"

And Fili went to work in earnest, grabbing clean cloths from his bag and dipping them in the strongly scented water. He bathed his brother's face, then motioned for Nÿr to uncover his leg and expose the angry scar just above the knee. He wet another cloth and pressed it to the old wound, nodding for Nÿr to take up the task.

They kept at it until Kili's breathing evened out. He looked spent, but a little of his color had returned and the scar, oddly enough, was looking less angry and more like an ordinary old wound.

"I think he's asleep, my lord," Nÿr whispered. "I think you've done it."

Fili looked at her, his handsome face showing worry and strain. "No. The _athelas_ did it. I was just the pack horse." He glanced at her, then seemed to take in the half dressed tumble of things in the little room. He said nothing but reached out, drawing her into a warm embrace.

"Thank you for staying with him."

She felt like breaking into tears or dying of shame (he had to know what they'd been up to), but she banished both thoughts. "I tried to help him, but I've not seen this kind of thing before. He was fine…" she shook her head, suddenly at a loss for words.

"Right up until the moment that he wasn't fine? Believe me, I know." Fili sighed and let her go.

"But what is it? I've never seen the like."

Fili looked sad. "Nor will you again, Mahal willing. It's Morgul poison, from an orc arrow some eighty years ago. We almost lost him then until a warrior used a handful of this," he nodded at the herb, "to bring him back."

"This is Kingsfoil?" she asked. And then she guessed which warrior must have done the healing.

He nodded. "We were so relieved…he was alive. Back to himself in less than a day, in fact. But what we didn't know then was that a Morgul wound never really heals. The poison hides in the blood and comes back, same time every year, for the rest of your life. It's a curse, really. Short of killing you, it makes your life hell."

"This happens to him...every year?" Nÿr could hardly fathom such a thing.

Fili nodded, then frowned. "Well, not _this_ exactly. Some years are worse than others." He touched his brother's forehead again. "When the dark lord fell, we thought the poison would be gone. That he would be free." Fili's expression was faraway. "But this is one of the worst relapses he's had."

They were quiet, listening to Kili's even breathing. "I must swear you to secrecy on this," Fili said, turning to lock eyes with her. "There are very few of us who know. Had the dark lord ever realized it, he would have used Kili against us, turned him into a wraith…or worse." He looked immensely sad then, and Nÿr could see the toll these years had taken on him. "For this reason we've kept Kili close to Erebor. He's hated it sometimes, but the mountain protects him." The King's eyes were moist with sorrow. "And now the free peoples have prevailed over Sauron, and yet my brother is not healed."

Nÿr felt her King's pain like an arrow to the heart, and she realized no one really understood the price paid by the Sons of Durin in order to secure the northern lands.

And something about that hardened her resolve at the tragic unfairness of it all.

"You have my discretion, my lord," she said. "And my oath as a healer to always keep confidence and to help all I can." She looked at Fili and saw him nod.

"How can I help now?" she asked.

Fili, surprisingly, found a touch of humor in her question.

"Well, first of all," he said. "You can find your clothes and get properly dressed in the presence of your King."

Nÿr thought she would sink into the ground with sheer embarrassment.

But when their eyes met, his smile was gentle, and she felt a touch of very fond approval in the way he raised an amused eyebrow at her.


	11. Chapter 11

Eleven

Fili, Son of Durin, King Under the Mountain, kept his back discreetly turned while Nÿr the Healer sorted through the cast-off clothing for all the pieces of her medic's uniform and dressed herself.

"I'll need your help getting this one bundled up again," he said when she was done.

"Not a problem. I've got a few healer's tricks for dressing patients." She tried to sound cheery to cover her chagrin and started sorting Kili's underclothes from his outer gear.

Fili knelt beside his brother and slid an arm under his shoulders, lifting him a little. "Kili, can you sit up for me? Wake up."

Kili managed to push himself into a sitting position mostly on his own, looking bleary eyed and confused.

"Sorry," Fili said to him as he popped an undershirt over Kili's head. "But we have to go outside if we're going to get you home." He managed Kili's arms through the arm holes, yanked the hem down, and went for the overshirt. Kili made a groan and shifted as if he would lie down again, but Fili caught him.

"No you don't, mister. I swear," he said, getting one of Kili's arms into the overshirt, "That you're as bad as Hannar in the morning." Fili smiled at Nÿr. "That's my youngest boy. He can stay up all night," he wrangled Kili's other arm into the overshirt. "But he's never a happy lad the next morning. Problem is," Fili pulled the shirt around front to button it and looked his groggy brother in the eye. "You're a few stoneweights heavier than a ten year old."

Kili squinted at him as if unimpressed with the humor.

Nÿr ducked her head and grabbed socks, sliding them over Kili's bare feet, humbled that she was trusted enough to witness this level of family intimacy between her King and his brother.

"Time to get you on your feet," Fili said.

Nÿr held up a hand. "There's a trick we learn in healer training." She moved to Kili's other side and explained the steps.

Fili nodded. On a count of three, they had him up.

"Well, that was easy," Fili said, though he still supported his brother's weight.

"Tricks of the trade," Nÿr smiled. She found Kili's underthings and his trousers, and they managed to get their patient to step into them. Nÿr stepped up to brace Kili's arm on her shoulder and let Fili pull up the trousers and get them buckled.

His boots went on next, then the leathers on over the top, and then the snow cloak and gloves. Fili leaned him against the wall and steadied him, retrieving his brother's sword and sheathing it. He put it in Kili's hand and helped Nÿr gather up the remainder of the gear. By the time they were done, Kili had managed to tie the scabbard to his waist and cinch the knot.

Nÿr's respect for her King grew as she realized what he'd done—repairing the indignity of being dressed with the expectation that he arm himself.

"There's a rope tied to the rail out front," Fili said, shoving his gloves on. "You keep your hand on it," he said to Nÿr, "And I'll be right behind you."

Nÿr nodded.

"When we get back up to the terrace, don't let yourself get separated from us. You and I will stay with him all the way back to my chambers."

"Not the infirmary?"

"No." Fili's voice was firm. "Not secure enough, and too many others would ask questions about what's wrong. As far as everyone up there is concerned, he twisted his knee, he's cold, and he's tired. Nothing more."

She nodded again, ready to go.

Fili stopped her with a hand and looked at her. "Nÿr," he dropped his voice. "There's more to this than Kili's wound acting up. Something's afoot around these negotiations and there are traitors inside Erebor." His face was serious. "We need to be careful. Don't trust anyone you don't know, and stay with him. Do you understand?"

Suddenly she felt frightened, realizing there was more to this whole thing than a rockslide and two errant dwarves stranded in a storm.

"If we encounter trouble out there, fall to the ground. I can't fight with you in the way." Fili must have seen the sudden fear in her eyes and he nodded, seeming satisfied that he had her attention on the matter. "Let's go, then," he said. He pulled up his snow hood, then Kili's. He took one of his brother's arms over his shoulder and nodded for Nÿr to lead the way.

Outside, the blast of cold wind nearly knocked them over. Nÿr found the rope, and trying not to pull on it, used it to guide them forward. Fili stayed at her back.

Twenty steps out, she felt Fili shifting his weight, realizing that he likely carried his brother more than simply supporting him. _One foot in front of the other_, she told herself. _Just keep going…just keep hoping nothing bad will happen._

After what seemed like an impossibly long time, she saw several heavy-coated dwarves ahead, and she cried out in alarm—but at her back, she heard Fili shout at them in recognition. Following his lead, she gratefully allowed their help. But she stayed close to the brothers, as she'd been told, locking arms with Kili to keep from being pushed to the side.

"No," Fili objected when they wanted him to board the cart first. "It can take three." The dwarves nodded, and Fili motioned Nÿr in first, helped Kili in second, and then slid beside his brother.

But as soon as they stopped moving, the cold seeped into their bones. Nÿr and Fili, by silent, mutual agreement, wrapped arms around Kili to lend him their warmth as the others threw the leather cover over them and shouted, "Go!"

The cart jolted, then began a slow climb up the steep rails. Next to her, Nÿr could feel Kili shivering again. _No_, she thought, afraid that he would backslide into senselessness again. "Hold on!" she shouted at him. "Just a few more minutes, and we'll be inside!"

She hugged him tighter, as if that would help. Was he already unconscious? But she felt his arm move, then his gloved hand found hers.

He squeezed with more strength than she expected.

And she squeezed back.


	12. Chapter 12

Twelve

"Ah, there's the wayward laddie." A rough looking old greybeard miner with a broad smile and sympathetic eyes addressed them when the cart bumped to a stop on the western terrace.

"Thank you for your help, my friend," she heard Fili addressing the old timer while a small support crew hustled them out of the cart and bundled them inside.

It was her first experience with seeing how Erebor's dwarves jumped to serve their King, and she was impressed with how carefully they eased Kili, who did little except grimace in pain (and maybe embarrassment), onto a stretcher held by eight ready young dwarves.

Nÿr stayed with him, playing up her role as healer and cautioning everyone to take care with his knee.

Then the old timer was beside her, draping one warming fur over her shoulders and another one over their prince.

"Should I get some walnuts for you?" he asked Kili, his voice tinged with the kind of humor that told Nÿr they were old friends.

But she saw Kili roll his eyes, despite his discomfort. "Bofur, I swear I'd throw them at you," he growled.

The old miner just laughed. But Kili reached for him and the miner gripped his hand quickly in heartfelt farewell.

And then they set off, arriving back at the royal apartment faster than Nÿr would have thought possible, taking a route that she didn't recall and couldn't have re-traced later.

The Lady An met them just inside the King's great room, helping Nÿr support Kili as he got to his feet.

"I can walk," he said softly.

"Of course you can," An said. "But we'll just make sure you get to your bed without falling on your face."

Nÿr, of course, was no stranger to the royal quarters, having attended Lady An's last birth and any number of calls to treat the young bumps and bruises earned by the young princes in those years before her posting to Ered Luin.

She had never, however, been inside Lord Kili's private chamber. It was quite small for Erebor lodgings, both simpler and more richly appointed than she expected. It held a small fireplace, a small desk, and a bookcase, surprisingly well stocked. And it was not all stone and metals, either. Kili's rooms included beautiful wood and plush rugs. There were richly glowing blown-glass lamps, leather chairs, and the alcove bed was appointed with velvets and silks in deep jewel tones. The geometric pattern of his princely crest trimmed only a few of the pillow and curtains, downplaying his royal status.

He considered himself just a kid from Ered Luin, she recalled.

Fili followed them in.

"Wait," he said, before they could help his brother out of his gear. His hand raised and turned in a motion that Nÿr recognized as the disarm command used by a captain to a soldier.

Kili nodded and slowly his hands went to his belt and fumbled with the strap. After a moment, he passed his sword to his brother.

Fili accepted it solemnly, taking it to a wall rack and stowing it.

The all-important male ritual complete, Lady An began divesting the gear from her brother-by-marriage with Nÿr assisting. They got him down to his skin again, and Lady An brought a thick robe to wrap around him.

In the meantime, Fili had laid out herbs and a warming pot on the top of a wooden chest. "I'll need boiling water," he said as they lay Kili in his bed. Lady An went to the little fire, swinging out an iron kettle that was in itself a work of art, unusually shaped and covered in a pine cone motif.

And Nÿr watched again as her King performed the little ritual where he steeped _athelas_ and chanted…dispersing the heady scent into the room. He repeated the work three times, filling extra warming pots that Lady An bundled into cozies and set aside to steep.

"We'll use these later when this one cools," Lady An explained.

"Is this something I could learn to do?" Nÿr asked quietly.

Lady An shook her head, stowing the last pot inside a warming box. "_The hands of the King are the Hands of a Healer_," she said. "Old saying, but true in this case." She looked over her shoulder at her husband. "But don't be fooled. It's the only healing spell he knows, and he only uses it for this."

"Elrond of Rivendell," Fili added, using a towel to dry his hands. "Showed it to me years ago when we talked to him about the orc wound. Took me a week of practice to learn it," he said. "I couldn't make it work in the Elvish," he smiled sadly as if recalling. "But once we translated it to ancient dwarvish I had it down."

"So it's not just the herb?"

"No." An said. "It's the herb plus the spell."

"And the Mountain," Fili added. "It's always a stronger cure when we do it inside the Mountain."

Fili looked at his lady wife and Nÿr expected that he would be told to rest. But she was mistaken. Instead, he began issuing instructions.

"Keep the kids and Nÿr inside our rooms, An," he began. "Until this is over. She can help you keep an eye on him. And now I need a bath, my formal robes, and something quick to eat."

And then he was gone.

Lady An touched Nÿr's arm. "We have our orders," she said, her expression serious. "Anything you need, ask for Gafi or Dzin. They wear the green tunics. I'll send in food for you, broth for him. Let him sleep, but when he wakes, try to get him to drink some if you can. Once His Lordship is sent on his way," she spared Nÿr an affectionate grin, "I'll see that we give you a chance for a bath and I'll find you something clean to wear." Lady An explained the three exits from the room, warned her to only use the one to the family quarters and to keep all of them locked.

And then she was gone, leaving Nÿr alone with her patient.

Who lay gently snoring in his bed.

**break**

**break**

Fili received word about the ravens as soon as he's cleaned up and eaten. He sent a message to Lord Dwalin, and then he was back on the western terrace before mid-morning, this time in full court robes and playing the role of King Under the Mountain to the hilt.

He strode onto the terrace, seeing his first bit of sunlight on this morning of Durin's Day. The rescue cart and track had already been removed, and to the few visitors also on the terrace this morning, it was every bit the picturesque overlook with a stellar snow-covered view of the breathtaking valley below.

But Fili, Son of Durin, King Under the Mountain, wasn't there to look at the valley or the view. He looked to the sky, holding up his royal hand in invitation.

He didn't have to wait long before a large, particularly glossy raven swooped in and landed on his upraised arm.

The bird fluffed and quorked in agitation.

"All right, all right," Fili crooned. "Just tell me."

Those watching only saw Erebor's King, dressed in rich Durin's Day finery, having a quite a long conversation with the raven on his arm. He listened for a long time, nodding to the bird, and then held the fellow closer, speaking into the bird's ear.

And then he raised his arm, launching the large black corvid back into the sky.

None of them expected what came next. The raven circled, calling loudly. Other ravens joined it, circling as well and adding their voices to the call.

Several high born ladies covered their heads with scarves and ducked inside, shocked and worried at the odd behavior.

But Fili stood straight and firm, his expression focused and jaw clenched as the bird gathering grew to represent quite a raucous flock. Soon there were hundreds of ravens and the noise became deafening.

And then they became quiet, except for the sound of their wings beating on the wind, their circling speed increasing like a small black storm.

Fili called out to them then, issuing a roaring command in Khuzdul.

And then the ravens arrowed past the stone columns of the western terrace and into the halls of the mountain.

And anyone close enough to the King to see his stony expression and ice-hard eyes stepped back.

The King Under the Mountain was on the hunt.


	13. Chapter 13

Thirteen

"All this will become clear," Fili stated firmly to the crowd of onlookers as he strode from the western terrace. "If you'll join me in the King's Hall." He didn't wait to see who came along, however. He simply took off, following the path of the raucous birds he had loosed inside the mountain.

Predictably, a flurry of angry ravens inside Erebor resulted in an eruption of screams, hysterics, complaints, and demands from the dwarves inside. People ran, sought shelter under stone tables, and took cover against walls as swarms of fast-flying birds screeched past.

But Fili didn't let any of this stop him. He continued through the halls at a brisk pace, trailing a small crowd of overwrought visitors and letting the complaints roll off him.

Inside, the ravens were hard at work. They swooped through the main cavern in a black cloud, then split into speedy squadrons, veering off into smaller halls, flying through every room in the mountain—from guest chambers to kitchens to the infirmary. Anyone who tried stopping one quickly learned that the ensuing uproar attracted teams of Erebor dwarves in full battle gear, pre-staged for quick response throughout the city.

"No interference with the ravens," the soldiers commanded. Most of the birds would simply fly in and then out of a chamber or room, but when the birds congregated and set up a loud cacophony, armed warriors responded and without preamble, cornered the residents and searched the indicated rooms with a vigor.

Fili entered the King's Hall trailing an angry rabble, but strode confidently to where seven trusted dwarves stood in a semicircle at the throne.

With his five advisors stood old Bofur and his rotund brother Bombur and they had a rough miner's box full of rock and powder sitting on a stone plinth.

Inside the semi-circle, lying in state with honor, the body of a fallen dwarf warrior. To the side, sat a grief stricken widow and two glowering sons, both well into adulthood. The sight of this turned the rabble silent and they milled about, whispering, and some removed caps in respect.

Fili mounted the steps to his throne, throwing his cloak off his shoulder as he turned, revealing the full mithril mail of the King of Erebor. His face and his stance, had he known it, were so like a younger, blonder version of Thorin Oakenshield that several of the old timers stood a little taller.

"Your patience, my friends," he stated, his voice filling the hall. "While the Royal Guard conduct a search of the mountain."

"For what?" an ill-mannered visitor shouted out.

Dwalin stepped forward to stand near the open casket of the fallen dwarf. "The persons," he growled. "Responsible for the murder of a royal guard and acts of sabotage against the Mountain itself."

The calls of far off ravens raising an alarm echoed through the halls into the throne room.

Moments later, a single glossy raven shot through the great doors and flew straight to the throne, circling it at full cry.

Most dwarves couldn't understand the birds, but anyone with a drop of Durin's blood certainly could—so Fili, along with Dwalin, Gloin, and Dori turned to listen intently.

"The powder! We find the powder!" it kept repeating.

"Like this powder?" Dwalin demanded, pointing his staff toward the box of rock debris that Bofur had brought.

The raven swooped low to land on the box edge, eyeing the evidence in the box, pecking at it once, and then bobbing up and down. Even those without the blood of Durin in their veins could interpret the raven's answer.

"We collected this sample last night from site of the last rockfall near the western terrace," Bofur explained in a loud voice so all could hear. "The rockfall that killed our honored fallen, the veteran Hoskel." He took off his hat and nodded in respect at the dwarf lying in state. "The ruddy stuff mixed in with this rock is residue from red-dust blasting powder. A very particular kind of blasting powder not in use inside Erebor's mines because it's coarse and unpredictable. It comes from only one source, and that's quite far away from here."

"It's a type of powder banned in our kingdom," Gloin spoke up. "In fact, until recently, this powder was produced in the east and sold only to the legions of Mordor. We were told," he glowered at the crowd, "that production had stopped and stockpiles destroyed."

"The ravens," Dwalin stepped up to stand beside his cousin. "Are showing us who among the current residents of Erebor has red-dust in their possession."

Several of the milling crowd stepped back, as if to distance themselves from any association with saboteurs.

At the throne, King Fili raised a hand and the raven launched itself toward him, landing on the back of the great throne and then hopping to the King's hand. Fili spoke briefly to the bird, then sent it off on some new errand.

"In the meantime," Gloin stated in a loud voice. "We wait for the Erebor Guard to bring forth the accused." He folded his arms and rested them on top of his short staff, clearly willing to stay awhile.

**break**

**break**

Kili woke, alerted by the sound of a scuffle outside his chamber. He sat up, his instinct to rise warring with a complete lack of strength and balance.

And instead of throwing off his covers and grabbing his sword he found himself simply trying brace himself well enough to sit upright.

And then he saw her, the tall form of the healer Nÿr, opening the door to find a large, glossy raven who hopped inside, then flew for the back of a chair.

"Oh!" she gasped.

"The King commands your presence in the great hall," the raven quorked.

Kili clutched the blankets, struggling to sort the words, his very brain slow, wrung-out and fuzzy after a night of intense fever.

But Nÿr had things under control, he realized.

"Now?" she asked the bird. "He's not quite well. It would be better if…"

"One hour," the bird said. "The King grants one hour."

"Yes, sir bird," Nÿr acquiesced, making a small curtsy. "Please tell his lordship that his brother will be there."

With that the bird eyed Kili, then launched itself into the air and out of the chamber.

Kili stared.

"Here. I can help you get ready," Nÿr said, nervously glancing about for his robe, finding it and coming to the bed to help him up.

Kili just stared at her. "The raven," he said, trying to get his thoughts in order.

"Yes. He brought a message from your brother."

"But you understood him."

Nÿr looked aside. "They're not that hard to…"

"Yes, they are," Kili told her. "That's an uncommon skill. Really uncommon." She held out the robe.

Kili grabbed it. "And since when did you become my personal nurse?"

He saw Nÿr's posture freeze. Mahal, he was an ass then he didn't feel well.

"I'm sorry," he reached for her, pulling her closer. "I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just...I want a friend, not a servant." He leaned his forehead against her arm. "If you would have me," he said. "Now that you know."

He wondered if she thought him tainted now, and unacceptable, infected as he was with a disease that could never be cured.

"My lord," she said. "I would not presume that one night of…"

"No," he said. "That was not a casual, throw away thing. You," he said, looking her in the eyes. "Are not a throw-away person. Not to me." He swallowed, expecting now to hear the words he'd heard before over the last eighty-odd years. _It's too much. I don't understand it._ "And stop calling me Lord." His words were barely above a whisper.

Nÿr's face was still, but her eyes blinked, as if she were thinking. "I'm just an orphan girl who grew up to be a healer," she said, slowly. "No one would ever take my Choice for you seriously even if I spoke of it."

"I would," Kili said, trying to smile. "And if you can talk to ravens, you're not 'just an orphan girl.' It means you have some connection."

Nÿr frowned. "I don't understand."

"Then it's a good thing that I do," Kili smiled and slid from beneath the covers, intending to stand but wobbling and grabbing the bedframe for support instead.


	14. Chapter 14

Fourteen

Kili swayed, his balance unsteady from the fever.

"Easy does it," he heard Nÿr's voice, then felt her arm around his waist, supporting him until he settled. He found himself thinking about her ear again.

"Hold still," he said.

She stared. "What…?"

"Just…" he leaned closer. "Still." He could smell her hair, freshly washed, as fragrant as balsa. He felt her tremble just slightly and closed the last inch between them. He kissed her lightly on the forehead, closing his eyes and savoring her scent. It helped clear his head.

She did not pull away, and her hand came up to rest against his bare chest. "My L…?" She barely stopped herself from using the title.

"Hmmm," he murmered. "Kili. Just Kili." And he could not look at her now. He felt unaccountably emotional, as if he needed something he could not name. Fevers did that to him, he realized. Made him oddly raw and laid him bare.

"Kili," she whispered, her hand slid sideways, gripping his arm. "Everyone sees the Prince, but they don't see you. Is that it?"

Now he looked at her, surprised at her insight. He found himself caught by the deep green of her eyes

"But you do?" he asked.

"Yes." And this time she was the one to lean forward and pull him into an embrace, her head fitting just between his shoulder and his jaw.

He nearly lost his balance again. "Nÿr, I want this to work…" he faltered. "I would like this to work." His voice seemed to lose its strength. "If you think you could love me back."

She looked up at him in alarm. "If…? Kili, how could anyone not love you back?" And from her changing expression he knew she had found him out. Discovered that his feelings for the elf had been so very one-sided…maybe as one-sided as her feelings for the Dale man.

She pulled him closer and her embrace was fierce. "I would love you with all my heart, for all my life."

He wrapped his arms around her, and something settled inside him.

He was surprised then, when she let go and stood back, shaking her head, eyes nearly tearful. "But how could this even happen? The minute the council found out about me…"

"No." He wanted to pull her back. "My brother is the one who counts, and my brother won't care."

"But the Court...the councilors!"

"Believe me, they know about the elf. Surely any rumor about a man pales in comparison."

"I'm no one, Kili. An orphan of no family whatsoever. I have no right to expect…"

"Nÿr, you can hear the ravens speak. I just saw you do it."

"So? It's nothing…I've always been able to…"

He reached out and grabbed her hands to stop her panic. "It's everything, sweetheart. It means you have the blood of Durin in your veins."

She stared at him.

"Don't know how, but you're descended from royalty, same as me."

Her face paled. "But we…_in the guardhouse_…"

He realized she was worried now about their night by the fire.

But Kili just shrugged. "Don't borrow trouble. Odds are we're more than three degrees apart, and that's all that's needed. In the old days, fourth and fifth cousins wed all the time."

"How would we even know?" She shook her head.

"An will know," he said. "She has all the family genealogies. We'll just ask…in a casual, what's-up-with-the-ravens kind of way."

She looked dubious.

Kili's gut suddenly felt hollow. "You don't want me?"

Her answer involved hugging him very close again.

Somehow they refocused themselves on the matter at hand. Kili turned himself over to the chamberlains for bathing and a fresh set of court-appropriate clothes, and he managed a quiet word with Lady An as she did him the honor of placing his prince's royal circlet on his head.

And then he found a ready escort in the form of his brother's pages and a few of the Royal Guard, and hoping that he looked stronger than he felt, bowed his thanks to An and let them lead on.

But before the door closed behind them, he heard his brother's wife asking someone to join her in the Queen's study…and the person who answered was Nÿr.

**break**

**break**

Fili sat stone still, glowering from his place on Erebor's great throne. He hated legal proceedings, but it was a duty he would not shirk. He knew the law inside and out, but had he not been born heir to the throne, he would have never willingly studied it.

That said, he was waiting for proof that the entire court could witness and accept. The people of Erebor needed to fully understand someone's guilt before he administered justice. It was an important part of good rule.

"My Lord!" A guard called, as a raucous flight of ravens soon preceded a cadre of the guards into the throne room. The birds swirled through the great hall until Fili shouted a command that had them settling, flapping and ruffling high up in the stone ceiling. The guards entered in two columns, escorting a group of about ten dwarves, none of whom were residents of Erebor.

The dwarves in custody were herded forward, and several sacks of evidence placed on the floor before the King.

It was old Dwalin who rose to command the guard. At his signal, the women in the group were offered seats to the side, but they chose to stand with the men and remained.

Fili recognized Yngvli the merchant and two of his insufferable daughters. How very predictable. But he guessed Yngvli was only a smoke shield. He was betting that the real culprit was one of the others.

At a nod, one of the Guard came forward and bowed.

"The search by the ravens," he said in a voice loud enough to be heard in the hall. "Revealed these dwarves of the Grey Mountains hiding stores of red dust blasting powder, a mining explosive expressly forbidden under Our Law inside Erebor. These ten," he indicated the group. "Have the residue on their hands and admit to knowingly handled it."

Fili nodded. Using what he secretly called his Thorin voice, he called out to the gathered crowd. "Does anyone present contest this, Our Law?" It was the chance for anyone in the Hall to object. No one did.

"What is the penalty for this crime?" Fili asked.

One of the clerks stood. "My Lord, may it please the court, the penalty concerning the possession of forbidden explosives is a fine of 50,000 one ounce gold coins."

Fili nodded. "Does anyone contest this judgment?"

Again, no one spoke.

Fili lifted the King's Hammer and pounded it once. "The penalty is called in the amount of 50,000 one ounce gold pieces." Old Gloin looked ready to demand the payment on the spot.

The group from the Grey Mountains remained stoic.

_They ought to be,_ Fili said to himself. It was a pretty light sentence, and with Yngvli's money to back them up, something they could well afford. _But I'm not done,_ he glared.

Near the body of the fallen King's Guard, lying in state, a pair of dwarves dressed in mourning robes stood and signaled that they wished to address the proceeding.

Fili nodded to them. "Speak, sons of Hoskel."

They bowed in respect, then the taller of the two cleared his throat. "We respect the penalty, My King, but we petition the court: is there not a bigger crime to be judged? Our father," the dwarf stopped, his voice breaking in grief, and he gestured toward his father's body. "Our father lies here dead, victim of a rockslide intentionally set by this…" he looked in great disgust at the group from the Grey Mountains. "Rabble. We petition the court to try these criminals for murder."

Fili held up a hand. "The court agrees. We will judge your petition." He looked to his guard. "Call Prince Kili, Commander of the Erebor Guard, and the archer Skirfir, of the second division, as witnesses. Call also Lord Rathsvith of the Grey Mountains, King of Ered Mithrin."

Guards saluted and court attendants scurried about. Those watching the proceedings muttered in speculation.

After several consultations, one of the attendants stepped forward and bowed.

"Lord Rathsvith is reported infirm," he stated. "He will be brought down, but it is said he is represented now by his cousin, Lord Aurvang."

Fili remained expressionless, guessing exactly where they would find this Lord Aurvang. "Bring him forward."

His guess correct, Fili watched as one of the heavier dwarves in the Grey Mountains group was brought forward from his hiding place behind the others.

And then, through the side entrance, the King's Guard escorted two newcomers: Prince Kili in his courtly robes and Prince's circlet, limping slightly and looking pale, though no one except for a few knew that the reason was anything other than a minor leg injury. Behind him came a younger dwarf in simpler archer's uniform, using crutches, one leg heavily bandaged and splinted.

A stone bench was brought forth for the young archer to sit. Fili approved, as it also made a perfectly reasonable excuse for his brother to sit as well. Fili could tell that neither of them should be up and about. He vowed to move the proceedings along and see them back to their beds.

Then Lord Rathsvith was carried in on a stretcher, looking completely unconscious.

Fili gestured for the court's senior physician to assist.

And then the questioning began in earnest. First he prompted Prince Kili for his report about the rockslide. Kili covered the basics, then relayed that the young archer Skirfir, only survivor of the incident well enough to appear, was witness to the individuals seen on the mountain at the source of the slide.

Skirfir was able to point out three dwarves among the Grey Mountains group.

"These three, My Lord," Skirfir said, indicating Aurvang and two others. "No mistake."

Skirfir was excused to return to the infirmary. Kili remained.

"My Lord," the senior physician called for permission to speak.

Fili nodded.

"Ered Mithrin's King has been poisoned." The physician touched the King's lips, then held up a finger stained purple. "Dismin's Potion."

The crowd watching the proceeding erupted in shock and hushed chatter. Dismin's potion could be very deadly.

High overhead, the ravens darted back and forth.

One flew down to the throne, bobbing in affirmation.

Fili launched himself from the dais and strode to the side of Ered Mithrin's King to see for himself. Regicide was a crime that all seven Kings took seriously. They had to. For the life of a visiting King to be threatened inside Erebor? Unacceptable.

Representatives from the other kingdoms stepped forward to see as well. In the audience, people stared in shock.

Fili ordered that the visiting King be taken to the infirmary for treatment and that guards be posted to ensure his safety. Two advisors from the Iron Hills accompanied them.

Then he spoke softly with old Jothro from the Iron Hills, pondering which crime had precedence for judgment when a small fight broke out between the three women in the group from the Grey Mountains. Apparently one was attempting to lay blame on two of the others in hopes of being judged innocent herself. Two of them were Yngvli's daughters.

The King's Guard separated them, revealing several vials of the offending potion in the skirt pocket of Yngvli's younger daughter. She cried her innocence, calling for Aurvang to help her.

And that was when Lord Aurvang simplified matters by drawing steel on the King of Erebor inside his own Halls.

He faced Fili, double-edged broadsword in his hands. "A curse on the House of Durin," he shouted. "Conspirators!" Then he added an insult in Khuzdul that sounded more orc-like than dwarf.

Fili stepped clear of old Jothro, genuinely welcoming the challenge to a fight. Here, finally, was a crime he could punish.

"I call for your blood," Aurvang snarled. "And the blood of all your children!"

The King's Guard looked to Kili and Dwalin, and then stood still. The King could fight his own battle.

Fili took two steps away from the others, gaining fighting space. "For what reason? What has the House of Durin done to you?"

Aurvang gripped his sword. "You supported Gondor in the war. You still support them!"

Fili took three more steps. "And you supported Mordor, is that it? You don't like that the world has changed, Aurvang. But it has."

"Has it? We ten," he jerked his head at the others. "Have managed to stop Gondor's treaty. I say this: the legions will rise again."

Fili slowed his steps. "And the House of Durin will always stand firm against them."

Aurvang laughed, advancing one step toward Erebor's King. "Then you will pay."

"The sentence, Aurvang," Fili called out in a loud voice that all could hear. "For drawing steel upon the King inside Erebor is death."

Aurvang scoffed. "You stand there weaponless!"

Fili, Son of Durin and King Under the Mountain, unsheathed his twin swords from their concealed sheath with a metallic shoosh.

"Never," he said, holding both at the ready.

Aurvang growled and raised his broadsword to strike, his face red and angry.

And the King of Erebor executed his death sentence in five precise moves. He easily parried the broadsword with his right sword and plunged the left cleanly into Aurvang's heart. The Grey Mountains dwarf looked frozen in shock, and then Fili pulled his sword back. As the condemned lord dropped to his knees, the King's right sword slashed through the treacherous dwarf's throat, followed immediately by his left sword removing Aurvang's head from his body.

It flew nearly all the way across the hall before rolling to a rest. The blood, of course, made a gory mess.

Fili pinned his gaze on the rest of the Grey Mountains people before him, steel in his blue eyes.

"Anyone else?" he asked, barely containing his fury.

To a person, those gathered in the halls were silent. The Grey Mountains people stood stone still.

Guilty. The whole group.

"Hear now my sentence," he said to them. "You are ejected for eternity from the Mountain and the lands of Erebor," Fili's anger and disgust made him sound more like his Uncle Thorin than he knew. "By decree." He was done with the _law_ of it, and he could decree anything he damn well wanted. He stalked back to the throne, thrusting his bloodied swords at an assistant for cleaning.

"Be it known to the Guard of Erebor that any of these seen returning to our lands shall be executed on sight," he ordered. He turned back to the nine remaining criminals. "All rights and privileges are revoked. You have one hour to be on the road."

"My lord," someone demanded. A female voice. It was Yngvli's older daughter, backed hesitantly by Yngvli himself.

"What about me?" she called out. "I am innocent, and I have a made a marriage proposal that has been before you for over a week." She hiked her skirts up and walked forward, her indignation clear.

Fili cast back his cloak and a moment later had a wicked-looking long knife in his hand, having drawn it in sheer anger. He'd had enough of these idiots.

The lady stopped as if suddenly aware that her own neck could be at risk.

"You're no innocent," he growled, his temper barely in check, his voice rising. "You're part of a rabble that has threatened the lives of two kings today." He paused. The room was silent. No one would take her part, not now. She was a criminal and a manipulator and unworthy of a place among true dwarves.

"Your petition," he went on, spelling it out for her. "Is a revoked right and privilege included in the category of _all_." He glared at her, unabashed that his response labelled her an idiot, being in no mood to suffer a fool.

With that he gestured to Kili and stalked out through the King's Door. He trusted the Royal Guard to enact the decree and send the group packing. He knew they would tail them, reporting back on their movements. He even knew that Gloin would ensure Yngvli handed over the 50,000 coins before departing.

But he stopped, just inside the private passage, sheathing his long knife and waiting for his brother to catch up.

His glare was stern enough to warn the guard escorts back, and it even frightened his pages, who took off at a run.

Kili limped up beside him and Fili put his arm around his brother to help him along.

"I'm all right," Kili insisted quietly.

"You were swaying where you sat," Fili groused. "I could see it from the corner of my eye. Damn distracting."

And together they walked the distance back to the King's quarters in silence.


	15. Chapter 15

Fifteen

Nÿr's tea with Lady An included some very enlightening genealogy charts, including the name of her maternal grandmother. But their work ended abruptly when Fili's three young pages dashed in, out of breath and reporting the events of the Court...including a death threat to the King's children, followed by the King spectacularly beheading the offender.

Lady An rushed to check on her youngsters and Nÿr followed. But the royal nursery had been built generations ago to be one of the safest parts of the mountain.

Her three lads ran to crowd around their mother, leaving the youngest, little Iri, unable to reach Lady An's skirts.

But the little lass spotted Nÿr and her preference for adult coddling instantly changed.

Nÿr lifted her easily. "How's that bump on the head?" she asked.

Iri's hand went to her head as if just now remembering the place where she'd been hurt. She smiled. "Fine." Then she wriggled away and was off to join the nannies, who'd taken a tip from their Lady to be especially on guard and to distract the children as best they could. Apparently, a secret box of special toys needed finding, and that was all it took to send four young dwarrows off on the hunt.

And then noise in the outer rooms signaled the return of the brothers.

Fili had blood on his robes. Kili was nearly grey in exhaustion. Together, Nÿr and An divested them of their crowns and their finery, handing it all off to the chamberlains.

Nÿr felt lucky—steering Kili to his chambers was relatively easy. In the other room, their King fussed, his temper in need of an audience. She also got the feeling he would instantly behead anyone else who even hinted another threat aimed at his sons and daughter.

"Don't worry," Kili grimaced as she set his boots aside. "An knows how to calm him down." He reached gratefully for his bed.

Nÿr felt his forehead. He was hot again. Too hot. She used the last of the steeped _athelas_ to bathe his face and she lifted the covers back from his leg to get a look as the old scars.

All she could say later was that the events of the last few days were catching up with her, and that was why she never noticed another person in the chamber until Kili's royal brother was standing there, stripping off his shirt.

She looked up to realize it was her King in nothing but his trousers, his very worried attention wholly on the exhausted dwarf tucked into the bed.

"How is he?"

She simply stood in shock, not knowing whether to bow or cover her eyes.

"Right now I'm no one but his brother," he said softly, his temper apparently exhausted. He glanced at her. "Just tell me how he is."

She bit her lip. "Worse. The herbs have helped, but the fever's back. I think it's higher. The scars are discolored again as well. Swelling around his knee."

Fili nodded, his face serious. He reached out to feel his brother's forehead. "The fever always spikes after sunset on Durin's Day."

Nÿr looked up. That had to be right about now.

"And nothing we've ever tried will stop it."

"Not even the _athelas_?"

Kili's eyes opened a little, his watery, fevered gaze riveted on his brother.

"Not really," Fili said. "He almost died that night all those years ago." He turned and looked at Nÿr, then sighed. "We'll have a rather horrible night," he said. "And then the fever will vanish before sunrise."

She considered the course of the fever, then understood. "Because it's a curse, not an infection."

Fili nodded. "Because it's a curse."

He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning down to touch foreheads with his brother. Kili moved his hand from beneath the blanket, resting it on his brother's arm.

A gentle touch on Nÿr's shoulder made her turn to see Lady An beckoning her away. She silently followed the older lady, who led her into the family quarters and turned to close the door behind her, but not before Nÿr saw that the King had gathered his brother in his arms and held him close. Just two warriors, both in pain.

"They were raised side-by-side to duty and honor," An said unapologetically. "Together they are the heart and soul of this mountain." Their eyes met, and Nÿr saw fierce protectiveness in her queen's eyes.

Then An raised an ironic eyebrow. "They are also its temper and its obstinacy." She smiled as if this were a jest and took Nÿr's arm, leading her into the family's great room.

"But are they not also themselves?" Nÿr spoke up. "It seems they are only two brothers, at once sweet and really…quite vulnerable."

An nodded. "Yes, they are. But I think that knowledge is for you and I alone. And maybe Iri, someday. And perhaps your own daughter, when you have her."

An smiled. "They are rough and ready in the halls, Durin's sons through and through. But here, in these rooms, we are only each others' loved ones. It is the family sanctuary." She turned to face Nÿr, taking both her hands. "And frankly, I could use some help. If you Choose him, you will belong here, too."

Nÿr stared. "But My Lady…"

An raised a hand. "No more fussing. I'm ordering up a fresh pot of tea so we can finish going through everything I've found."

**break**

**break**

Kili woke on the morning after Durin's Day curled against his brother's back.

It was just innocent dwarven, brotherly comfort of the sort so easily misinterpreted by men. Elves, of course, didn't bat an eye at such things.

_You'd think we'd grow out of it,_ Kili mused. He listened to Fili's quiet snoring. No use waking him. He'd stayed here all night, after all. After two days of sheer insanity, he was sure Fili needed his sleep.

Kili tried to ban the memory of recent events. Guards caught in a rockfall. The sight of Fili executing a traitor. Blood in the King's Hall. It all merged with his fuzzy memory of the fever, the searing pain of burning cramps in his leg…the grip on his brother's hand the only thing connecting him to something sane while he could see nothing but the red haze of fever.

By Mahal he wished this would end. He wanted to never feel the pain and fire of the curse again, never hear himself screaming in agony. On the minus side, it would all be back, same time next year.

On the plus side, he was apparently off the Grey Mountains marriage proposal list.

Mahal, yes.

Fili had stopped snoring.

"You're awake." Fili's hand touched Kili's.

"Mmm."

"Better?"

Kili nodded. "Just…wrung out. Brain feels itchy."

"You say that every year."

Neither of them moved, comfortable as they were.

"You can go sleep in your own bed, you know," Kili said, referring to a long standing joke between them that dated back to the time when he was little Hannar's age and afraid of lightning storms.

"What, you think my wife's going to be jealous?"

Kili snorted. "Your wife appreciates the break."

"That's what you know about wives, little brother." After a moment he changed the subject. "Remind me to find that infernal marriage proposal and rip it to shreds."

"Hand it to me and I'll do it for you."

"And I swear if I don't see one from that healer lass before the end of the week, I'm writing it for her myself."

**break**

**break**

At mid-morning three days later, an item on the King's consent calendar required Kili's presence in the King's Hall. It was the usual day set aside for court proceedings, attended by all of the councilors, many of the leading families, and the usual collection of onlookers. If they were unusually formal and polite, Kili tried to chalk it up to the fact that negotiations had successfully wrapped the day before (the King of Ered Mithrel having survived and voted from his bed) rather than the feeling that people were suddenly more mindful of their King's temper and their desires to keep their heads.

Predictably, Kili had resumed his duties quickly, his strength returning as soon as Durin's Day passed. So when the item was called, Kili rose to stand at his place beside his brother, ready for anything.

A small contingent of dwarves approached the dais, including Nÿr, flanked by Old Dori and a trio of his nephews. Kili realized they were acting as her guardians and representatives, as was proper according to dwarven traditions. Lady An had apparently found Nÿr's closest Durin family link.

Dori stepped forward, made the formal greetings, then presented his matter to the King. "I bring a petition, my Lord, on behalf of the Lady Nÿr, our cousin, as I understand it, by way of her mother's relation to King Thror's Father's Brother's daughter. " He nodded, clearly enjoying the chance to address the King in assembly.

Kili raised his eyebrows. Not all that closely connected to Dori, then, and well removed from the line of direct descent.

"Duly noted. Please continue," Fili prompted.

Dori smiled, bowed, smiled again, and carefully drew out a document and opened it. It seemed to have many folds and he nodded apologetically as he went. Finally done, he smiled again and took a breath.

Kili wondered how the document could be so complex. A marriage proposal was generally quite to the point.

"I present," Dori managed an ornate bow, "A marriage petition from my cousin, the Lady Nÿr, to the family of Prince Kili of Erebor."

Kili saw his brother pause a moment, then nod for Dori to go on, adopting a very serious expression. It wouldn't do to look as if he had anticipated this, though Kili had to stop himself from rolling his eyes again at the absurd dance they were all doing. Why couldn't the two involved just agree and have done?

Across the room, he saw Dori looking from the document in his hand to Nÿr, and then back. "Is this really…?" he whispered to her. Beside him, Nÿr simply nodded and tilted her head as if to say _get on with it._

Kili frowned, not quite sure why Dori would question her. Marriage petitions were all about the Lady's Choice and the lads couldn't gainsay it. That was the point.

Then Dori cleared his throat. "The proposal at hand…" he glanced at Nÿr again, who only raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded, dithered, and then seemed to steel himself. "Invokes a courtship year, of a time not less than twelve months, with the necessary codicils and addendums stipulating conditions for my lady's continued studies and her achievement of Full Healer status..." Dori looked uncertain at this point, glanced at Nÿr, then seemed to feel he'd said enough and finished by looking back at the King and saying, "Et cetera." He held out the document for the King's Clerk to take.

Kili blinked, wondering if he'd heard that correctly. But he kept his mouth closed. Tradition stipulated that the intendeds did not speak. He could only look at his brother and trust Fili's court experience to sort this out.

But his brother had raised his eyebrows and appeared just as taken aback.

Lady An saved the moment. "My Lord?" she stepped to her husband's side.

Fili nodded. "Please," he said, looking more like he was tossing her a flaming pine cone rather than the right to speak.

Lady An held an old, leather bound book, turning to a particular page and handing it to the Clerk. "The Lady is within her rights. It is a rare privilege given only to those of Durin's line, dating back to the daughters of Nain the First: the right of a courtship period, at the end of which she may reject the lad to which she has proposed should he prove unacceptable."

Fili looked affronted, and his response was sharp. "But the lad in question is also of the line of Durin and several degrees closer in direct descent." Kili stayed still. In fact, the entire court held its breath. Fili's frowning glare didn't bode well for his temper.

Lady An made a graceful bow to accede the point. "It simply allows time for the intendeds to get to know each other and prove their compatibility. It is seen as a more genteel path for the line of Durin," she added. "In fact, our own daughter, the Princess Iri, will have the option of this right when it comes time for her to make her own Choice."

Kili watched his brother blink, then sit back. After a moment he looked more comfortable with the idea, put into that context. The slightly accusing look Fili exchanged with his Lady Wife couldn't have said _how come I never got that chance?_ more clearly than if he'd said it aloud.

Kili suppressed a grin and looked across the room at Nÿr. She was brilliant. This was perfect. Shyly, she looked up and met his gaze. Her expression seemed to him one part apology, but the other part was sureness. Her life goals were her own, and he suddenly knew that a big part of what attracted him was her strong, self-confident spirit of purpose. She had her own ideas about what her life would be and was not the kind who would set that aside for anyone.

Not even a Prince.

Let alone a kid from Ered Luin.

And truthfully, neither of them would be happy if she did, him most of all. He wanted her to be his equal and have her own status, self-earned. The fact that she was a healer instead of a warrior bothered him not at all. In fact, it made her his perfect opposite.

Kili smiled.

He became aware of his brother watching him. He turned to meet Fili's eyes, and they didn't need to speak in order to understand each other.

Fili arched an eyebrow at him as if to say, _Well, at least it's a step in the right direction. _Kili just stood firm.

Fili rose to address the court, his usual placid nature re-asserting itself. "Very well. May the record show that I accept a petition from the family of Lady Nÿr on behalf of my brother, Prince Kili of Erebor. Prince Kili," he called in the formal manner. "May I present the Lady Nÿr, to whom we have consented to…" he paused, searching for an alternate phrase to the usual word. "A courtship year."

Kili smiled gently and stepped forward, eyes set on the simple beauty of the tall healer lass across the room. He placed one hand over his heart and bowed deeply.

"My Lady, I am honored."


	16. Epilogue, Part I

Epilogue, Part One

"I hear congratulations are finally in order for you, lad," old Bofur's merry eyes sparkled as he rolled up a stack of sketches and drawings from the large stone table.

Kili smiled and shouldered a leather scroll case in the place where he normally carried a quiver of arrows. Overall, he was amazed at how happy the people of Erebor were about the news that Lady Nÿr had chosen him…not for marriage, but for a courtship year.

"Who'd have thought, huh?" he said, shy and proud at the same time.

Bofur sidled up to him. "No more bachelor life, though." He tsked. "But what I don't understand is why the wait? Lassies generally want to get on with it…" He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

Kili laughed. "It's pretty old-fashioned, isn't it? I'm all for it, though. I mean, we'd really only just met and it feels better this way."

"What he means," Old Dwalin hobbled up. "Is his brother wanted him out of the running, but no lassie in her right mind was going to take the risk." He winked and grabbed Bofur's shoulder for support as he walked past.

Bofur laughed again. "But what I wonder, though, is this: what do you do? Exactly?" He made a face. "Courtship? What does that even mean?"

Kili had to admit he was a little uncertain on that point himself. "Just…get to know her," he said, turning his old friend toward the door. "Find out what makes her happy…help her out."

Bofur stared, even as he walked for the door, looking at the younger dwarf as if he was nuts. "But how's that going to get you any action in the sack? I mean, that's the point, isn't it?"

Kili made a face as if amused but not willing to go further. "I am soooo not discussing this with you," he laughed, shaking his head. He patted his old friend on the back and waved his farewell as he left.

But as he strode from the Stonesmith's meeting, he knew that Bofur had a point. What exactly was a courtship and what was he supposed to be doing to prove his worth?

Fact was, the announcement was made, everyone had raised a glass at the big post-negotiations feast…and then she went back to healer training and he went back to commanding the Erebor Guard and attending all the meetings that his brother didn't have time for.

And there was nothing romantic about that. Not a thing.

But tonight he had a plan. A good one. At least he hoped it was good. He'd gone over it with his brother that morning, who approved the idea, but then carefully wouldn't predict its success.

"You're on your own, there. Not even going to guess." He'd given Kili a shake of the head and then slapped him on the back and sauntered off.

So Kili was feeling out on a limb all by himself.

He headed for the Great Hall. Chris-crossed with open-air walkways and lined with great flights of stone stairs, the inner hub of Erebor glowed with a beautiful golden light from strings of suspended oil-lamps and it literally buzzed with people at this time of day. He nodded and smiled as dwarves, lads and maidens alike, recognized him and offered smiles or quick greetings.

But he wasn't looking to get distracted. He was looking for his intended, Nÿr. Tall and slender for a dwarf maiden, she would be dressed in healer blue and carrying her medic's satchel, and if he knew her, at least one (if not more) medical tomes.

He finally spotted her on a lower ramp, and quickly took a shortcut down. He came up behind her, dodging a group of merchants.

"Nÿr!" he called, striding forward.

She turned, and he caught up, catching her hand in his.

Her smile was serene, lovely, and just for him. He leaned forward for a quick (and properly chaste) kiss.

"Busy day?" she asked, a happy twinkle in her eye.

"Very," he rolled his eyes and hiked his shoulder to show the scroll case. "Renovation planning. My brother always says the dragon possessed Erebor less than two hundred years, but it will take us twice that to fix up the place—mostly because everybody has to argue every point at least five times."

"So…you're brokering negotiations." Nÿr suppressed a smile.

"Exactly. The miners want to re-open the north spur of the silverlode shaft, the Stonesmiths want a year to shore up the mine entry, and all the Crafthall Master wants is twice as much silver ore as soon as he can get it. And you?"

"Eight cases of gout, three head wounds, and two births."

"Two?" Kili's face lit up. The people of Erebor were thriving and new babies proved it. "That's…what, eleven this week?"

"Fifteen. One dozen lads and three lassies."

Kili loved how her face always glowed with a quiet pride when she talked about the newborns. "You must be exhausted," he said.

"A little." Then her smile disappeared.

"What?"

"I have hours of studying to do tonight," she looked apologetic. "Group exam tomorrow at mid-day."

Kili tried not to look disappointed.

"It wouldn't be so bad," she went on, "Except we have a new class of beginner lasses who," she looked away as if struggling for the right description, "Are quite young. There's far more chatter and silliness going on in our quarters than actual studying."

Kili grinned. "Then it's a good thing I found you." He reached inside his jacket and pulled out an odd, old key on a blue silk cord. "Are you up for a surprise?"

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, though she was clearly interested. "Only if it involves three hours of reviewing burn treatments." She hiked up the large tome she carried in the crook of her arm as evidence.

Kili adopted his most serious face. "On my honor, I promise." He held the key out to her, brassy and bright in the palm of his hand.

They stopped on the stairway landing and Nÿr took the key, considering it. Finally she looked up with a quirky smile on her face.

"If there is a key, there must be a door?" she teased.

That was all the answer he needed. He grabbed her hand and headed for the Halls of Learning, not so far from the healer's dorm and the training infirmary where Nÿr spent many of her hours.

But once they reached the busy halls, Kili passed by the well-used main corridors, looking instead for something else. At a six-way intersection, he stopped and pulled her forward.

"This," he said, nodding to an old carving in blue stone. "Is the statue of Joadmun the Apothecary."

Nÿr nodded. "Yes, I know. He wrote _The_ _Basic Book of Simples_."

"But that," Kili said, turning her left toward a nondescript, open passage that looked like it led to a cleaner's closet. "…is where we're going. But since we don't want everyone noticing…or worse, following," they exchanged a significant look. "We need to wait for a moment until the halls are clear."

So they stood next to Joadmun's statue and feigned interest in it, and after waiting several minutes, found an opportunity when no one would see them slip inside the little passage.

Together they followed the lamp-lit, narrow corridor around three sharp corners, leading quickly to a single, very old, carved stone door.

Nÿr stared. She could see no keyhole in the usual place.

Kili pointed to an ornament in the center. "There," he whispered.

Nÿr held out the key, slid it into the lock, and then stopped. "What's inside here?" she asked, clearly curious.

Kili smiled and shook his head. "Not telling. You have to see for yourself."


	17. Epilogue, Part II

****This chapter Rated M for mildly mature M/F content.****

Epilogue, Part II: The End

Kili watched Nÿr turn the key until the old lock clicked open. The hinges were surprisingly smooth and silent.

And then she gasped as the room inside came into view, gently lit by the oil lamps he'd set earlier.

He watched her face go blank, then transform in wonder as she took it in, seeing the fireplace, the rug, the bookcases, and the long oak table complete with blown-glass study lamps.

"What is this place?" she breathed.

Kili took her hand and guided her inside. The answer was complicated, but he had already decided not to burden her with its entire history.

"It's a room my mother used when she studied under the schoolmasters. Balin showed it to me years ago." He smiled, trying to keep the rest of the story at bay.

In truth, it had also been used by his Uncles Thorin and Frerin, and it had become Balin's favorite haunt after the dragon years. It had also been the very place where he and Fili had last spoken to Nÿr's distant cousin Ori before their friend had departed on that ill-fated journey to Moria.

But he and Fili had decided that the room deserved a new life, free from the memory of people long dead.

So they had agreed Kili and Nÿr should share it as a place of their own, away from prying eyes and social expectations.

"I thought we might both like a place with some privacy," he said. "You can use it whenever you want," he went on, nodding at the key he'd given her. "No one's been up here for years. Well, except An's maids—she insisted on sending them up to clean this morning." He watched now as Nÿr turned a slow circle. Had he guessed correctly? Would she like it?

Or was he presuming too much?

Nÿr stopped and stood still, as if mesmerized. "The bookcases…!" she breathed.

He gently took the oversized medical tome out of her arm. "Which chair do you want?"

She considered the study table and put her hand on the back of the first chair, wood with a comfortable stuffed cushion on the seat. "This one is fine," she murmured, looking stunned. He realized she'd probably never had a room of her own.

He set her book down, then stepped around to the chair at the other end, dropping his scroll case from his shoulder and setting it on the tabletop.

"You have reading...I have construction plans to look at." He shrugged. "I thought we could both use the study time," he said.

She smiled. "Both of us, bent over our papers, working into the night?" The idea seemed to amuse her, so he kept going.

Nervous, he showed her the wooden drawers for her paper and pens, even a place for his drafting supplies. He turned up the flame on the table lamp, then searched his pockets for his flint.

He held it up. "Shall I light the fire?" He hadn't meant to say it so softly, he realized. It had just come out that way. Then again, this would be the answer that told him whether she liked the place and wanted to stay.

She nodded, looking completely speechless.

He smiled in relief and bent to the task. The little fire crackled to light, but before he could stand, he felt a touch on his shoulder.

She knelt beside him, her hands gently cupping his face, and she leaned forward to kiss him.

Not one of those chaste, safe for public viewing kisses, either.

It was fervent enough to slowly push him off center and onto his backside.

"You have studying," he said, not really resisting another kiss.

"You want to stop?" she asked, not really pausing.

And after a week of nothing but proper and virtuous behavior between them, their spot on the plush rug in front of the fire was far too tempting.

"Not," he said. "In the slightest."

They took their time in a slow, passionate disrobing of each other—stopping to explore with gentle hands and ardent mouths. This room was warm and comfortable, after all. Nothing at all like the rustic, freezing guard room of their first, rushed encounter. And he liked that she had a willingness to show him what she wanted. She made it abundantly clear where they were headed, and Kili was all too happy to oblige. He cushioned her head with a small pillow from the oversized leather chair, careful to be considerate.

At least right up until the time that she urged him not to be.

Mahal, yes.

**break**

**break**

Kili woke with Nÿr nestled against his shoulder, a soft throw blanket draped over them. The fire had burned to embers, but it was enough.

Enough for him to see her face, serene and relaxed.

He could survive the rest of this long year, he decided, if what happened next was the thing he hoped for.

He wanted to see her wake up next to him, wanted to know if the intimacy he craved was really there. Because all the rest of it aside, that was the thing he was missing. Years of fighting and surviving the curse had brought this realization to him. He was starved for simple peace and privacy to balance all his years of duty and service.

She moved and woke sooner than he expected.

He nearly held his breath.

She blinked at him and her expression went from questioning to…a look of wonder and acceptance. They were here, together, and she liked it. She nuzzled his jaw, and he kissed her forehead. She burrowed closer.

Yes. This was right.

"I love you," she murmured, her voice still sleepy and sated. Her hand reached across his chest and rested on his shoulder with a sweet gentleness that touched his soul.

"I love you, too," he said in a quiet voice, eyes closing in relief. "So much more than I can say."

They were going to be all right, he realized. And getting on with his life was not going to be so hard. In fact, he had a feeling it was going to be downright interesting...as long as they always made a little space for each other.

**break**

**end**

****Author's note: this particular part of the story is complete. Feedback still welcome, so please don't be shy about leaving a note! Thanks for taking a look. I do appreciate the likes/follows/reviews. Cheers! -Summer ****


	18. Chapter 18

**To story followers of Durin's Day, 3022: **

**I just posted a new story titled ****_Erebor 3022: Ravenspeakers. _**

**It continues the story that was just ended here in _Durin's Day 3022._ **

**Here's a tease of Chapter One, but please go on over to the new story and follow it if you'd like!**

Chapter One

Kili, Son of Durin, Prince of Erebor, Commander of the Guard, and newly betrothed of the healer trainee Nÿr, stood on the open parapet of Ravenhill wrapped in a fur-lined leather cloak, his wealth of black hair streaming behind him in the icy wind.

Beside him stood his oldest nephew Fjalar, a skinny lad half his uncle's height and eager for his first chance at Ravenspeaking. The lad's sun-gold hair was much like his father's, minus a few streaks of sheer white, and his snow cloak sported the King's royal crest.

"You remember everything your father said?" Kili asked, watching his young nephew dart forward in hopes of looking over the edge.

"Of course." And then the lad stopped himself and backed up to take position back at his uncle's side. "I mean…yes, sir." The lad had been given strict rules, and his uncle had been given permission to enforce them.

Kili suppressed a grin. He recalled being Fjalar's age. So eager to learn and do new things, but also so impulsive and so easily distracted. He was certain he and his brother had driven their own uncle mad with it.

Which was one reason he had only one prince in his charge and not all three. Fact was, Fjalar might be a little young for this, but Erebor had only six capable Ravenspeakers. They needed more.

And winter had come to Erebor in a series of northern storms that blanketed the Mountain with a deep layer of snow and ice. Foot patrols were curtailed by deep drifts and dangerous ice, and lookouts were stymied by stormy cloud cover.

So in the rare daylight hours when skies cleared, those who could speak with Ravens were essential help: for Ravens could fly reconnaissance across the lands around the Mountain and bring back critical news.

But the skill to be Ravenspeaker was found in a rare few: only those with the blood of Durin. Fjalar had become an obvious choice. Seven years older than his next sibling, Fjalar was capable of this. And the lad had to be trained up to duty and service at some point, everyone agreed. So why not start here.

"Well, you've had plenty of advice about this." He winked at the lad. "Time to give it a shot. You ready?"

The lad's eyes went wide, then he nodded.

_Thanks much! See you over at the new story!_


End file.
